A Schism in Stars Hollow:A Father Goose Digression
by litmouse
Summary: Oneeyed men and women wearing not quite enough black leather, riding motorcycles in the square, it seems evil has come to Stars Hollow but the one who sees finds it is already there. A follow up to Viva Los Xanders. Xander Faith and friends. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

**A Schism in Stars Hollow:**

**A Father Goose Digression**

**A BTVS – Gilmore Girls Crossover**

**By Litmouse**

Disclaimer: BTVS characters and canon belong to Joss Whedon et al.

Gilmore Girls characters belong to the Palladino's and/or ??

Not to me. So it goes.

**NOTES: **

It's not _necessary_ to read _Viva Los Xanders_ before this, but it might make it a little more fun, as it is a sequel, of sorts.

**Timelines:**

**BTVS:** Definitely not necessary that you read _Father Goose and the Black Knight_ to follow the story, but set in the same verse and after the events described there, but in, shall we say, a temporal anomaly: This is something that _might_ happen five or six years later, _ergo_ nine years after _Chosen_ and one year after _Viva_. Xander and Faith are a couple, Giles heads the new Council, etc…

**Gilmore Girls**: Third season, just before Poe's, since the Independence Inn hasn't burned down yet. Rory is with Jess, and has been accepted to Harvard and Yale but hasn't decided yet.

Warning: I'm not sure, cussing and violence is always possible, if somewhat less likely in Stars Hollow. Also, if you're big fan of David Rosenthal you might not like it.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**A Schism in Stars Hollow: A Father Goose Digression**

**Chapter 1: Arrivals**

It was late on a Friday afternoon, Doose's Market was staying open to catch the end-of-the-work-week shoppers.

Taylor felt them coming, he had a sort of sixth sense for that sort of thing. It was not long before one of the five kicked in as well and he heard the distant thunder of an approaching motorcycle. It was a large machine carrying two riders, they rode once around the square, the evil grumbling of the engine echoing in the quiet town.

And then a station wagon pulled away from the curb and left an opening in front of his store and of course the motorcycle parked there.

The passenger got off, pulled off his helmet and revealed a black eyepatch covering his left eye. He pulled a walking stick out of a holder on the bike and began stretching and limping up and down in front of the store, Taylor half-expected him to burst out with a loud, "Arghh, avast ye scurvy dogs," so much did he resemble the third lead in pirate movie.

The driver, clad head to heavy boot in black leather, pulled off…. _her _helmet, Taylor realized with a start, at least he thought it was a her, she had long black hair and while being fairly sturdy seemed to have a feminine shape beneath the armored riding gear .… and then she unzipped her jacket and removed all doubt.

She swaggered into the store, stood a moment surveying the merchandise and, Taylor could have sworn, posing for the discreetly (and some not so discreetly) staring locals.

"Hey, yo, Pops, can you tell me how to find the Independence Inn?"

Taylor started to explain but soon noticed the woman's eyes were looking past him to focus on Dean in his green apron.

"Or maybe boytoy here could come along and show me," she said, leaning across the counter to give the blushing teen an eyeful of her abundantly displayed assets.

Taylor pulled an old flyer out from under the counter, flipped it over to the blank back and began drawing quickly. He handed the woman the map, she hesitated, stopped ogling the boy long enough to take a quick look at the map which she folded and placed very deliberately into the deep valley of her cleavage, gave Dean a last leer, punched Taylor on the arm, said,

"You're all right, Pops," and swaggered out.

Taylor wiped his forehead and turned to face the next customer. Outside Taylor heard the waiting pirate say, his voice petulant,

"Just couldn't wait, could you?" but the woman's reply was lost as she started up the bike. Taylor began slowly to relax as he heard the engine noise begin to fade into the distance.

But then slowly it began to grow louder … they were coming back, Taylor thought with horror, horror that multiplied as three motorcycles came into the square and rode once around and then naturally they parked in front of his market.

Taylor couldn't believe his eyes. Not just more motorcycles. More men with eye-patches. More women in not quite enough black leather. That Gilmore woman had done it again. Now she'd booked some sort of half-blind biker gang into the Independence Inn. That was just inappropriate. There would have to be an emergency town meeting.

But in the meantime, the important thing was to get them out of the town proper. And away from his market as quickly as possible. Taylor pulled out another flyer and began to draw.

To his relief though the three women turned and, leaving the men to stand around leaning on their walking sticks, headed into Luke's Diner. Taylor gave the hand drawn map to Dean and sent him to the back to make copies. Just in case.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rory Gilmore came running up the steps and into the house and dropped her bag of assorted candy from Doose's Market for eating on the way to Friday night dinner with her grandmother and her bag of assorted burgers from Luke's diner for eating after they got back from Friday night dinner, and stood panting and said,

"You'll never believe what I just saw ….."

"Mikhail Baryshnikov in a tutu?" her Mother asked brightly.

"No."

"Stephen Hawking in a tutu?"

"No. Ew. Shame on you."

"Taylor in tutu?"

"Yes. Taylor was in a tutu."

"I don't believe you."

"I told you you wouldn't believe me."

"But you're my angel, my sweet darling perfect girl who would never lie to her mother, so I have to believe you. Taylor was in a tutu?"

"No."

"You lied to me. My world is shattered. So what did you see that was so terrible you had to lie to your mother who loves you?"

"I'm not going to tell you now."

"Oh, but you have to."

"No."

"Please please please please and I won't tell Jess what you did last night after dinner."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"I would. What did you see?"

"I don't remember."

"I'll tell Luke too. Tomorrow in the diner I'll tell them together."

"Okay, okay, now I remember, there were three men with one eye…"

"Just one eye? Did they pass it around like the Fates, it was the Fates wasn't it or was it the Muses…"

"It was the Fates and they didn't have one eye…."

"You just said they had one eye…."

"I know, I know, but I meant that they had three eyes…."

"You mean with one in the forehead like the whatever it is that has three eyes with one in the forehead…"

"No! There were three men and they each had one eye…."

"In the middle of their forehead…?"

"No. In the …. Eye hole, thingy , socket, place for your eye. Making in all three eyes. And three eye patches. And three men. In front of Doose's. On motorcycles."

"Taylor must have loved that."

"Yes. Taylor was quite flustered."

"Why wouldn't I believe that?"

"What?"

"That Taylor was flustered. You said I wouldn't believe you and then you tell me Taylor is flustered and Taylor is always flustered so why wouldn't I believe you?"

"That wasn't the part you won't believe."

"Oh. There's more?"

"Yes. There were three women…."

"How many eyes?"

"Six. Two each. In the usual places. And they were wearing skintight black leather outfits with their chests… well, lets just say it was a good thing they were wearing zip up boots because there was no way they could look down and see if their shoes were untied. And they went in to Luke's…"

"To see if their shoes were tied?"

"Apparently to lean over the counter and show Luke their… chests. Although I suppose it's possible they were trying to see their feet but…"

"You don't think so."

"Not really, no."

"So, did he?"

"Did who what?"

"Luke, see their… chests."

"I don't see how he could have missed them. He has two eyes."

"So was he, you know, looking?"

"Well, he was trying not to."

"But he was."

"Yes."

"Is this the part I'm not supposed to believe?"

"No."

"Oh. So, after they showed Luke their… chests?"

"They asked him for directions to the Independence Inn."

"Oh. Well that explains it. They're motorcyclists."

"Explains what?"

"We've got a convention at the Inn this weekend. The Doppler Gang Society, which is kind of repetitive and redundant, _gang, society, society, gang_, same thing. It must be because they go really fast. On their motorcycles. And they'll be all blue when they come and red when they leave. Because of Doppler. And his effect."

"I don't think it works quite like that."

"Maybe it works better if you only have one eye?"

"You're crazy."

"I'm crazy? You're crazy. I still don't know what I'm not supposed to believe."

"Anyway they asked for directions and Luke sent them over to Doose's because apparently Taylor has printed up a map to the inn."

"That was very kind of him."

"It says _'Thank you for leaving Stars Hollow'_ on it."

"That was very Taylor of him."

"So they left and that's when I saw that, sitting in the corner in Luke's there was another man with one eye….

"Another man with one eye? Maybe it's a motorcycle and BB gun convention…., cause….

"Yes, yes, I get it, we watch that movie every Christmas…. AND there was another woman wearing black leather who was really mad about something. I mean really mad. I heard her say something like,

"First, it's been freaking _years_ since I was like that, and I was never like that, maybe I flaunted it but I never freaking_ drooled_ like a half-wit, sure as hell not over some hayseed in a backwards baseball cap who smells of grease,"

"Hey!" Lorelai interjected, "Luke's not a hayseed."

"Her words, not mine," Rory continued, "and she got up and stomped out of the diner and over to the gazebo. And the guy just sits there and shakes his head. Now, this is the part you're not going to believe. You remember that old white tree next to the gazebo with the y-fork and then the second y-fork just above it.

"Ye-ah, sorta."

"She kicked it ."

"She kicked it?"

"And it fell over."

"After she kicked it?"

"Cause and effect. Kick. Over. Like George Washington and the cherry tree..

"George Washington kicked a cherry tree?"

"He chopped it down. Cause and effect. Same thing."

"I didn't know we had a cherry tree in Stars Hollow."

"We don't."

"Because George Washington chopped it down, right. So she kicked down the tree…."

"… And then she came back in to the diner and sat down and the guy asked her if she felt better. And she said yeah. And then she ordered three more of Luke's double cheeseburgers."

"No way."

"Yep. I heard her."

"Three _more_?"

"Yep. Luke said she'd already eaten three."

"The _double cheeseburger_. With _fries?_ "

"Yes."

"I don't believe that."

"Told you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Faith was in pain, she lay curled in a fetal ball, hugging her aching ribs and gasping for breath. Above her, silhouetted against the pale purple darkness of the evening sky Xander stood, indifferent to, perhaps even slightly relishing her pain.

"Please," she begged him, "make them stop."

"You had to tell them," he said coldly, "you just had to tell them. You brought this on yourself."

That was true enough, she had to admit. But she'd had to. She'd never been the type of girly girl who had to run and tell her all friends everything that ever happened to her, but some things, like the existence of the Xander L. Harris Doppelganger Society for one, were just too good to keep to yourself. If she'd known she would end up in a small clearing just outside the tiny town of Stars Hollow watching Giles adjust his eye-patch, straighten his Hawaiian shirt, twirl his walking stick and come limping over to greet them she would have prepared herself….

Or maybe not. There just wasn't much you could do to prepare for a sight like that.

Or for his reaching out to shake Xander's hand and saying, "Yo, X-man, what's up?"

But she'd held it together. Even as Buffy came up still brushing out her long black wig, wearing black leather jeans and jacket and low cut shirt, headlights on high beam,

"Hey, B." Faith said, "you've been eating your vitamins."

"It's called a wonderbra, Faith." And she blushed a little and looked away. "And maybe just a touch of Willow brand enhancement. But this is nothing, wait 'til you see Double D Dawnie…"

And still Faith managed to keep it back to a wide grin, even as Andrew and Timothy arrived in matching bright blue surfer scene shirts and matching eye-patches and walking sticks with silver dolphin handles.

"Greetings and salutations fellow Xanders and Dark Slayers on this the momentous occasion…..errf. What?"

"Not now, Andy," Timothy said, "save it for the presentation."

"_The what?!"_ Xander said, but was interrupted as just then Red and Kaitlyn arrived, Kaitlyn, with her small frame and delicate features and usual shy rabbit demeanor looking completely out of place in black leather and Red in her…. Hawaiian shirt and eye-patch.

"What?" the witch said.

"Will," Xander started, but she cut him off.

"I can be a Xander if I want to," she said and did the pout the other scoobies knew better than to argue with.

There was a squeal.

"There you are! Willow!" Dawn had arrived and came marching over to the giggling witch, one arm wrapped under the protuberances on her chest, the other braced against the small of her back, "Look, when I said I wanted the whole Pam Anderson thing I didn't mean the _whole _Pam Anderson thing I just meant..."

"Oh, relax, Dawnie, it's only for seventy-two hours…"

"Willow! I keep falling over."

"Oh, all right," Willow said and waved her hand and Dawn's bosom receded to more actual Faith-like dimensions.

And still, in part by carefully avoiding looking Xan in the face, Faith had managed to keep it in. But then Buffy called for all the Xander's to line up and practice the limp…

"You too, Xander."

"I don't need to practice my own limp."

"I thought that's how come you lost the look-a-alike contest last time? But anyway, I don't need you to practice, I need you to demonstrate. You here, and behind him, Giles, Andrew, Tim…Will, okay, on three, come toward me. One two three, limp. …. All right, _lurch_, then."

But the sight of the four pseudo-Xanders lurching in a line like Romeran zombies was more than she could take and Faith lost it completely, the laugh took her and threw her around like no demon ever had and now she was on the ground holding her ribs and gasping for breath.

Finally, when she was able to breathe again Xan helped her to her feet and they all moved over to the edge of the clearing since Thiago was doing the teleport from Cleveland and precision still not his strong point…

And then Zoey, in her own worn black leathers, the only outfit so far to actually resemble Faith's apparel, appeared along with four motorcycles, one of which had a sidecar. She quickly began organizing a little practice session,

"Mr. Giles, you'll be with me on the Guzzi, Willow, I thought you and Emily on the Vulcan with the side, and Andrew and Tim on the Harleys with Dawn and Buffy…"

"No!" Andrew and Timothy cried out in terrified unison."

"Oh, sack up you two," Dawn said, "we ride the Vespa in Rome traffic all the time, this will be nothing."

"I still don't know why we couldn't have just rented a van."

"Because if we're gonna do this, we have to do it right," Buffy told him. "C'mon Andrew, it's gonna be fun and we're gonna have stuff to tease Xander with for the rest of his life."

"That's true," Andrew said, mollified.

"So," Giles said, after they all got used the travel arrangements, "are we ready?"

"Just can't wait to see more of me, huh, Big G," Xander said.

"Yes, it will be a dream come true. Shall we?"

"I have to make a quick courtesy call along the way," Willow said, "so you guys better follow me."

**-30-**

**Next: Chapter 2: Baggage**


	2. Chapter 2: Baggage

**A/N:** For disclaimers etc see Chapter One 

While I don't believe the actual capacity of the Independence Inn was ever specified on the show, I suspect I have remodeled and enlarged it just a bit. In my defense can I just say, time was always a bit flexible on the show, and if time, why not space?

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Chapter 2: Baggage**

Patricia LaCosta, known in Stars Hollow, despite her many marriages, as Miss Patty, paced in her small house. She could feel them. Magical beings had entered the Hollow. Not evil, of course, not demonic or she would be feeling far more than a bit of unease. The spell may have weakened a bit, enough to worry her for the future, but for now the shield was still strong.

But whatever they were they were not pure white magic either. And one of them… one of them had real power, power like Miss Patty had never felt before

Miss Patty had felt them arrive, the first one apparently by conventional means, just a ripple in her senses, now the others coming in little bursts of magic, teleporting probably. And now she could sense them moving, coming toward her.

Then she heard them, the motorcycles. She'd been hearing the motorcycles in town all evening, had had the pleasure already of three frantic phone calls from Taylor, but somehow she could tell these were coming to her. She composed herself and waited.

Miss Patty had come to understand her powers, such as they were, relatively late in life. Perhaps onstage she had used them from time to time without realizing it. It was only when she came to the Hollow and the old lady that ran the bakery, Fran, had given her a rum ball to try, that she'd first had an inkling. She'd eaten the rum ball with the old woman watching like a hawk, and done her best to compliment it, though, truth be told it had had a funny taste.

"So you're a good witch, then?" Fran had said.

"What?"

"If you were evil that rum ball would have swelled and choked you to death."

Miss Patty would have stomped out in a huff, but she had the fatal weakness called curiosity. Plus Fran had offered her a big slice of Black Forest cake to clean her palate with. So she stayed and learned. It turned out Fran knew little about real magic, Miss Eva Ernst herself could probably have devoured the rum balls by the dozen with no ill effects beyond a little bit of queasiness and a slight headache. But she'd put Miss Patty on a path.

She'd gone home and begun to experiment a little. The first time the spell to clean the dishes worked was a joyous day indeed. She did some reading, she went to a few meetings, learned more about her powers, and her limits. The magical world, she'd learned, was not just a place of shiny clean dishes and dancing silverware. Power was always a two-edged sword and Miss Patty had hesitated, not sure if she really wanted to plunge into that life. And then the child had come and she'd had no choice. She'd channelled all her power into the one great spell and she'd kept the child safe, kept all of Stars Hollow pure and protected.

And as a by-product, kept herself isolated. And now, just as she was becoming aware of the cracks, the growing weakness in the shield, now for the first time in years she sensed the presence of other magical beings. Perhaps they sensed the vulnerability and had come to exploit it.

Or just maybe, she thought, they had come to help. In either case, they were here. Miss Patty went to the door and opened it wide.

There was a woman coming up the path, red hair pulled back, dressed mannishly in jeans and an Hawaiian shirt and wearing for some reason an eye-patch with the patch flipped up to reveal two perfectly good eyes. Patty could feel the power in her like a bonfire on an October night. Just behind her a smaller, slighter woman looking just a little awkward in the provocative black leather outfit she was wearing, but still emanating her own power, a lesser yet purer flame.

The redhead stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and bowed slightly as did her companion. Behind her four motorcycles lined Miss Patty's white picket fence, more women in black leather, some men with eye patches…. It was hard to sense anything else with the redhead so close, but Miss Patty could still feel the presence of Others, beings not evil but edged with darkness … and something else she couldn't begin to understand….she could tell only that it was …. _green?_

"Blessed be, sister," the redhead said, "I am sorry to enter your space uninvited and unannounced, but I did not sense your presence until we arrived. We mean no harm. We are only passing through on a brief holiday."

"Blessed be," Miss Patty replied, "if you mean no harm then you are most welcome. "

The redhead bowed again, "Thank you. We will trouble you no further. Blessed be."

They started away then, got halfway down the walk before Miss Patty impulsively called out,

"Miss…"

"Willow," the redhead answered. "I am Willow, this is Kaitlyn. Yes?"

"You really came here with no purpose?"

"Only a bit of fun, a sort of … party for a friend."

"Oh. Miss. … Willow, you are obviously a witch of great power. I would be grateful if you could find time to have tea with me before you go? You might be able to… give me some guidance on a difficulty I am facing…."

"Of course. Is it urgent? We are in no great hurry now…."

"No, not urgent. I think perhaps if you a spend a day here you be able to give me some …. insights unbiased by my descriptions…"

"Of course. Shall we say Sunday afternoon then?"

"I would be most grateful."

And then they were gone, she could feel their presence moving away, heading, of course, toward the Independence Inn.

Miss Patty went into the den and dug around in her dusty old roll-top desktop and found her rolodex, flipped through it, found the number and stared at it for awhile.

Then made the call.

"Ah, Patty," the voice answered without giving her time to identify herself. Showoff. Or caller ID more like. "How nice to hear your voice," said the voice, who hadn't actually heard hers yet, "after such a long time."

"Yes, yes," Miss Patty replied, "of course you've just been sitting by the phone, pining away."

"Oh, we both know who shut herself away. But of course you had your oh so noble reasons. Which are no doubt why you are calling, what's happened? Did someone spit on the sidewalk? Was a homeless man seen on Main Street? Did your little angel go down on her boyfriend?"

"Ha ha….. No. I've just had a visit from a very powerful witch, she said her name is Willow…."

"What color was her hair?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question, woman. What color was her hair?"

"Red."

"Ah, good." The voice relaxed. "And why did the Red Witch come to see you?"

"You know her then?"

"I know of her, answer a question when it's put, will you?"

"She said she was going to a party."

"Well, that's possible."

"She had others with her, another witch and something else I didn't recognize, beings with a different kind of power…"

"Young women?"

"Yes. Some men, too but the magic was with the women."

"Well, you needn't worry, Patty, they mean you no harm."

"So, you think they really are just going to a party?"

"Oh, probably. Either that or there's an impending apocalypse nearby."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Lorelai Gilmore," Emily Gilmore snapped, "What is it that you have between your legs that is so fascinating?"

"Mother!" Lorelai exclaimed, her face a mixed masque of shock and delight, "Dirty!"

"What do you mean dirty? I am simply asking why all evening you've been peering into your lap like a penitent schoolgirl, no offense Rory."

"No offense taken Grandma."

"Suck up," Lorelai whispered to her daughter, then answered her mother brightly, "My cellphone."

"What have I told you about bringing your cell phone to the dinner table?"

"That I should set it on vibrate and hide it in my lap so you didn't know I had it with me."

"I see."

"Perhaps Lorelai is expecting an important call," Richard Gilmore said placatingly.

"At eight o'clock on Friday evening? I don't think so. It's too late for a business call and no gentleman would call at this hour..."

"Of course, you're quite right," Richard said.

"Of course, with Lorelai's taste in men anything is possible."

"What's that supposed to mean, Mother?"

"Oh, nothing. Finish your broccoli Lorelai, cook has made some lovely cherry tarts for dessert."

"Ohhhh, I love cherry tarts."

"Yes, I know you do, Lorelai."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Aren't you going to make some comment about 'You are what you eat.'"

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Malice?"

"Don't be silly."

"So," Richard said, "Rory, have you decided on a college yet? Are you still set on Harvard or you giving Yale at least a little chance?"

"Not yet, grandpa. Harvard is still my first choice, but I haven't finished my pro-con lists yet."

"Perhaps you will give me chance to add a few pros to the Yale side before you make your decision?"

"Of course, Grandpa."

"Ohhh. Oh."

"What is it now, Lorelai?"

"My phone is ringing."

"So it is a man, then?"

"Why do you say that?"

"You look happy. Well, go on then, if it's so important, answer it."

"Actually, it's a text message from Michel. He says he is resigning because he cannot work where there are sword fights in the lobby."

"Michel, that lovely man at the Inn? You can't let him resign, I'm sure the whole place would fall apart without him."

"Yes. He's the glue. Not to worry though, let's see, I have several other messages here. He's resigned because having his bottom pinched is not part of his job description. He also resigned because helping Pedro the Waiter to escape to the potting shed is not part of his job description. …

"Is Pedro…" Rory asked.

"The really cute one, yes," Lorelai continued. "Michel has also resigned today because helping Pedro the Waiter to escape _from_ the potting shed is not part of his job description. Also because too many brightly colored shirts hurt his eyes. Also because calming insane chefs who attack guests because they sent out for pizza is also not part of his job description. One day I expect he'll resign because working is not part of his job description."

"So," Rory asked as the door to the Gilmore manse closed behind them and they started for the jeep, "how many times did Michel call tonight?"

"Oh, twenty-three or four."

"I see. I thought you were enjoying the fish course a lot more than usual."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Emily Gilmore waited until Richard had retired to the den with a cigar and a book, then she made her way down to the basement, slid the secret panel back, lit the candles and knelt before the vivarium, spoke the incantation, tapped on the glass. The Egyptian cobra shifted, raised its head and looked at her.

"Yesss?"

"I fed them the tarts, milord. They ate them without qualm."

"Good," the snake replied. "We are making progresss."

"I think we need to do something about the inn, though. She is taking the most absurd circumstances in stride. Instead of causing stress it is providing stability."

"Do what you think bessst. But sssstep carefully, Emily. I senssse a powerful force in the Hollow tonight. We mussst do nothing to draw itsss attention until we know itsss intentionssss."

"Understood."

"And the girl?"

"Remains oblivious."

"Complacent?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Well done. I am pleasssed."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"These are very strange peoples," Michel said again, to himself, because by now he was the only willing to listen to his complaints, no matter how justified.

The door opened and more new guests came in. What a surprise. Women in black leather. Men with eye-patches and gaudy shirts. At least these women didn't look like they'd gotten dressed with the assistance of two strong men and blacksmith.

The first couple came forward. Perhaps things were looking up, the man had the sense to appear to be almost as embarrassed as he should be, the woman appeared to be more amused than permanently aroused. He decided to dispense with the curt "Yes?" he'd been reduced to earlier and gave the full greeting,

"Good evening, welcome to the Independence Inn. I am Michel, how may I be of service?"

"Hey, Michel," the man answered, "you got reservations for Al Jenkins and Charity Wigglesworth…."

"Al Jenkins and who?" yelped one of the other women who'd just come in, the one with the blonde hair showing under her slightly askew black wig.

"Yeah, yeah," Charity answered, "Wes thought he was being funny."

"Well, I'll be. Who knew Wesley had a sense of humor."

"Yes," Michel said, consulting the reservations list, "here we are. Are you living or lifestyle?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You are here for the convention, yes?"

"Yes, but we're… new to this."

"Ah, I see. Well, apparently there are two factions. We have had some… _altercations_, so we are putting one group in the east wing and one in the west. "

"And they're fighting about… what exactly?"

"As I understand it, one faction believes that imitating this Xander Harris person, who, I must say, I have never heard of, is a way to make a living. Like Elvis impersonators, one supposes. The other side believes that emulating Mr. Harris is a way of life, a sort of religion even …" Michel paused. The man, who called himself Al Jenkins, though Michel was beginning to have some doubts about the authenticity of that name, had just closed his visible eye and winced as if in great pain while the little group behind him erupted in laughter.

Michel waited as Charity fought to control herself, wiped her eyes, said, "Lifestyle, Michel, gotta be lifestyle, the man is a god, who could doubt it?"

Trusting that that was a rhetorical question, and too grateful that he hadn't had to suffer through a long diatribe on one side or the other too worry about whatever inside joke it was he was missing, Michel handed over the key and the convention packets. Charity took the still cringing Al's arm, said,

"C'mon, L. Ron, let's find our room, but don't even think I'm gonna be washing your feet, 'cause that shit ain't happening."

He checked in a giggling Anne and Alba Estate, who were sharing a room with an only mildly amused Zoey Halstrom. Anthony Bells and his rather cute friend Timothy Moscone. And just for variety, a _woman_ with an eye patch who called herself Bill Rose, and her friend Kaitlyn Granger. And a single room for an older Britisher, one Reginald Smythe-Smythe who seemed rather annoyed with Bill Rose for some reason. But on the whole they were a quiet and reasonable bunch and Michel decide he rather liked them. They were almost normal.

He sat back and took a breath and commenced planning the terrible revenge he would have on Lorelai for convincing him to work this week-end.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Buffy Summers, _AKA_ F. Anne E. woke in a homicidal rage.

She had been in a soft and comfortable bed, drowsing, relishing the rural quiet, when her insane maniac of a sister, F. Alba E., had come back into their room, jumping up and down and squealing.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod Buffy, you have to some see this."

"Can I come see it later?"

"No. You have to come now. You have to be there when Xander sees this. And Faith. I tell you, if you miss that you'll regret it, now, and for the rest of your life."

"Okay, okay, but this better be good." She groaned and got out of bed, pulled on a robe and fuzzy slippers and allowed her self to be dragged out into the hall, down the main stairs, through the lobby and into a sideroom where Willow, Kaitlyn, and Zoey were already waiting, grinning like idiots.

"C'mon B---- Anne, open your eyes," F. Alba insisted. She did.

"Ohmigod," F. Anne E. said. "Where's Giles. You have to get Giles."

**-30-**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** See Chapter 1 for Disclaimers, warnings

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Chapter 3: Customs**

Rupert Giles, _AKA_ XLH Reginald S.-S., who one thought would have learned by now not to casually request that Willow whip up a fake ID without, at the very least, specifying the name. He was going to be called "Reggie" and "Reg" all day and he was going to have to answer to it.

He straightened his absurdly colorful Hawaiian shirt (comfortable, though, he had to admit) and adjusted his eye patch to fit snugly under his glasses. He felt a slight twinge of shame that he had never thought to do this before, never quite realized just how much of the world disappeared when you closed one eye and kept it that way. That Xander continued to fight and survive with such a handicap forced him, once again, to revise his opinion of the young man upwards. Although anointing him with messiahhood was probably taking that respect just little too far, he thought with a smile.

Still, whatever the reason, it had been nice to see them all together again, in one place, at one table, laughing as they ate the surprisingly good dinner served in the Inn's diningroom. Nice to see Faith happy and sane, his failure there if not wholly redeemed at least amended. Repaired. Another reason, he supposed, to be grateful for Xander.

He tried to remember the last time they had all been together like this and couldn't. That was his fault, at least a little. After the First had destroyed practically the entire Council with one blow he had thought it best to make it a policy never to, as it were, have all his eggs in one basket. Perhaps the time had come to rethink. For one thing, he needed to find out exactly how the anti-demon shield that covered Stars Hollow had been created and maintained. There would be a cost, of course, but perhaps it was one the New Council was in a position to afford.

Perhaps too, now that the New Council and the slayers were spread out around the globe, an annual meeting might not be such a bad idea, if only to make sure the lines of communication stayed open, to make sure the names on the lists always had faces and laughs and the little quirks that made them human first and warriors second…

Perhaps on Sunday before they all went their separate ways, they could have an old fashioned Scooby meeting and talk about it.

Well, he thought, enough meandering, let's see what we're in for today. He opened the convention packet, pulled out the program and looked it over, sighed. On the other hand, there could be worse things than a demon attack at an annual meeting. He read;

**Seventh Annual Meeting of the**

**Xander L. Harris Doppelganger Society**

PROGRAM SATURDAY MORNING

Welcome: XLH Joseph B.

**OLD BUSINESS**

Decision of the Disciplinary Committee re:

XLH Geoffrey T. and XLH Ramon Q. and F. Maria Q.

Moment of Silence for XLH Mark O.

Moment of Silence for XLH Giorgio M.

Moment of Silence for F. Jeanne l.

**PRESENTATIONS**

As I See It: How We Came To Be Here: a brief history : XLH Harvey P.

We Are Professionals: Viewpoint. : XLH Robert Y.

We are Soldiers in a Righteous War: Viewpoint : XLH Renee V.

We Be, Therefore We Are: Viewpoint : XLH Davis O.

What the Man Himself Would Say: Viewpoint :XLH Ed G.

**PANEL DISCUSSION **

Ya Gotta Have Faith:

_Integration and Suffrage: Fatal or Necessary?_

XLH Joseph B. XLH Harvey P. XLH Kevin G. F. Erin M.

The Doppelganger's Doppelganger: _The Look-alike Contest_

Judges: XLH Joseph B. XLH Harvey P. XLH Ed G.

** LUNCH** --- _We will join the Ladies in the Dining Room_

** AFTERNOON** (_The Ladies Will Join Us_)

**DEBATE **

Whither the Dopplegang:

_A New Beginning or the Beginning of the End?_

XLH Robert Y. XLH Davis O. XLH Joseph B.

**Eye to Eye: Free Discussion Period:**

We ask that all members remember that though we may disagree we are brothers and sisters at the core, in order to properly honor the Heart of the Scoobies Please remain civil.

**Free Time**

Please enjoy the fine grounds of the Independence Inn, boating and volleyball equipment available, inquire at the front desk. And/or explore the quaint charms of Historic Stars Hollow, map and shopping guide also available at the front desk

**Remember to attend the Banquet in the Dining Room at 8:00 PM**

**Hosted by XLH Joseph B. and F. Sarah B.**

**Twinkie Eating Contest at 9:15**

**Entertainment provided by the**

**Musical Comedy of the _Shoo Be Do Be Scoobies_.**

**SUNDAY**

**PRESENTATION**

Our Hero in Cyberspace:

_What You Can Learn From RPG's_

XLH Anthony B and XLH Timothy M.

**WORKSHOPS**

Xan and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:

_Basic Motorcycle Repair_

XLH Marty G. F. Nyoko H.

Intimidation through Implication:

_How to Scare Scary Things._

XLH Joseph B. F. Sarah B.

The Real Thing

_Slayers: a spotter's guide_

XLH Gene K. XLH Baraka N.

**BRUNCH**

Informal

Free Discussion Period

Members to Share Success Stories and Cautionary Tales

**NON-BINDING STRAW VOTE**

Farewell: XLH Harvey P.

Giles was just starting to look through the supplementary materials, position papers and so on when there was an urgent knocking at his door.

"Yes?" he called.

"It's me, Mr. Giles," Zoey answered and he stood and opened the door.

"What is it?"

"They want you to come down right away. Please come, Mr. Giles. Buffy said I was to … carry you kicking and screaming if you didn't and….well."

"Of course. And Zoey, even without such… intimacy I think you could drop the Mister."

"Of course, Mr. Giles. Now, please?"

"I'm coming…. wait, I should bring my walking stick, shouldn't I." He followed the girl down the hall, down the stairs, through the lobby to where the others were waiting, Buffy came bounding over, grinning madly and took his arm while an equally eager Dawn took his other elbow and they pulled him into the next room.

"Oh dear lord," he said, and, after extracting his limbs from the Summers' girls grips, began thoughtfully polishing his glasses.

**-30-**


	4. Chapter 4: Immigration

**Chapter 4: Immigration**

**A/N:** For disclaimers etc see chapter 1  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Chapter 4: Immigration**

"Come, my Lord, Your apostles await," Faith said.

"Stop that," Xander replied.

"You can't hide in here all day, O Holy One."

"Seriously, knock off the my lord stuff. Or get with the kneeling."

"Been there. Done that. Just last night, I seem to remember, yeah? With my bod I thee worshipped even before you were a god, an' if you're a good little cult leader it might happen again, but right now, I'm hungry for, you know, _food._ Eggs and stuff. So come on."

"Well, I can't go _now."_

"Oh please. You're an Xander, you're supposed to walk funny."

She took his arm and together they went along the hall, down the stairs, through the lobby and saw the others waiting, turning almost as one to grin at the approaching couple like a clowder of cheshire cats.

"Uhoh," Xander said, "this looks not of the good. Maybe if we edge to the left and run for it…"

"Nah, whatever it is, might as well get it over with."

"O---kay. Just remember…."

"Yeah, yeah, they're just silly people and I'm not allowed to beat them up just for calling me a slut…"

"Well, if they call _you..._" and the gang parted and let Faith and Xander see what was in the room and the little fenced yard beyond and Xander gaped and Faith said,

"Oh my fucking god."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Have some pancakes," Luke said.

"But I want a doughnut," Lorelai whined, "I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought was 'I want a doughnut.' Okay, first thing I thought was 'Alarm clocks are proof of Satan's presence in our world,' but right after that I thought, 'I want a doughnut.'"

"I'm all out of doughnuts."

"How can you be out of doughnuts? What's a diner without doughnuts?"

"Have an omelet."

"I want a muffin then."

"I'm all out of muffins."

"How can you be out of muffins?"

"Have some toast."

"Seriously, Luke, how can you be out of doughnuts and muffins? Is there a wheat shortage? A baker's strike? Surely I would have heard about a baker's strike."

"I had doughnuts. And muffins. I sold them. That's what I do here. Sell doughnuts. Have some eggs."

The bell rang as the diner door opened and Rory Gilmore came in to join her mother.

"Don't even bother sitting down," Lorelai said "there's nothing to eat here."

"What do you mean there's nothing to eat?"

"I'm out of doughnuts and muffins," Luke said, "but you can blame your mother for that, she's the one who booked the Xena convention. Who knew they ate so many doughnuts in ancient Greece."

"Did they even have doughnuts in ancient Greece?"

"Well, if they didn't I'm sure Xena would have invented them, but they would have been called chakranuts…. Or maybe doughchakrams… but it's not a Xena convention…"

"What kind of convention is it?"

"Well, I _thought_ they were German scientists."

"Why did you think….., you know, I don't want to know. All I know is that a bunch of women wearing black leather with swords on their backs came in here bright and early and bought all my doughnuts and they wanted to know when Taylor opened so they could buy out his Twinkie and Hoho stocks…."

Lorelai turned to Rory, "See, now you _have_ to come to work with me, if guests of the Inn made a doughnut run Sookie will be throwing a fit, which means Michel will be having a breakdown and I know how much you love watching Michel have a breakdown."

"That's not _me,_ that's _you_. I'm the angel child. I'm nice to people. You're the one who likes to pull the wings off flies…"

"I do not like to pull the wings off flies…."

"Only because you're afraid of small insects…"

"So, Luke, can I have those pancakes to go?"

"What pancakes?"

"You said I could have pancakes."

"I also said you could have eggs. Do you want pancakes?"

"No. I want a doughchakra…nut. With sprinkles."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Giles watched the emotions coruscate across Faith's never stoic face while Willow babbled on, oblivious,

"They're so _cute, _aren't they cute, I just want to wrap them up and take them all home like a box of puppies. Did anyone smuggle in a camera? I know we weren't supposed to bring cameras but we _have_ to get a picture of this…"

_This_ was one frazzled attendant minding a few toddlers in a playpen while in the gameroom and in the little fenced in outdoor playground, miniature Faith's and Xanders, about a dozen or so of each, complete with little leather outfits and tiny Hawaiian shirts amused themselves and each other, after a fashion. Fortunately their parents weren't _total _idiots and the few swords in evidence were of the floppy rubber kind, walking sticks were absent and what eye patches there were had been quickly discarded.

Giles was no judge of children's ages, the youngest he guessed at around five or six, the oldest at the age where they were eyeing the fence and thinking of escape but hadn't actually done it yet. Earlier from his window Giles had seen a small coterie of adolescents slinking away behind the potting shed where he supposed they were holding a colloquium of disenchantment, mocking the Great Harris and smoking …. something. Possibly just tobacco.

"Ohh, look," Willow said, "that little Faith is rubbing that little Xander's nose in the grass. Remember when I used to do that?"

Mostly, Giles noted, they had separated by gender, but there was one little mixed group, a couple pairs, and a few isolationists. In one corner a little boy wearing what, in any other circumstance would be a wholly masculine black leather junior MX suit, sat arranging some dolls into a tea party setting which a couple of little girls eyed covetously, their rubber swords forgotten.

Dawn had joined in with Willow in the nudging Xander and cooing fest, but Giles saw the grin had faded from Buffy's face to be replaced by concern as she too took in Faith's mixed reaction, saw the slight glisten of unshed tears before Faith turned and half-strode half-ran back across the lobby and out onto the Independence Inn's manicured grounds. Xander paused a moment, took one more look at the costumed children, smiled, shook his head and turned to follow after her.

Buffy leaped to join him, "Xander, I'm sorry we didn't think…"

"It's okay, Buff, no tragedy. Just caught us by surprise a little. Makes sense, really, should have expected it. She'll be okay, she's just a little freaked. You gotta admit, it's a little weird…." He grinned, "they are kinda cute though, ain't they?"

"Oh yeah. You go on now, take care of her." Buffy turned back then and let herself lean into Giles waiting shoulder. "Oh god, Giles, you don't think they've been trying…"

"I have no idea."

"You don't suppose…."

"No, and I'm quite certain. I've seen her medical records Buffy, there's never been any indication of any remaining damage beyond the external scar." He felt her relax a little, braced himself for the next group moodswing as the excess cuteness high faded and the various women began to contemplate their own situations.

Giles himself, since first encountering Buffy had had enough young people cluttering his life to feel no more than the occasional slight twinge at the absence of his own progeny, Jane, the woman he was currently "keeping house" with was joyously child-free… but he knew Buffy was of an age, now that a full lifetime seemed possible, to start hearing the faint ticking of that clock. Willow too.

It was still relatively rare, but there were enough slayers with children now to establish that it was possible. But still the incidence of miscarriage did seem to be higher than the average for 'normal' women of that age, though no one knew whether that had to do with slayer physiology or lifestyle, or just randomness in what was after all truly too small a sample to draw any firm conclusions from. But Giles knew it was there in Buffy's mind, and, he assumed, in the thoughts of any other potentially parental slayer.

Still, it seemed to Giles, based on the many sad stories he either heard himself or second hand from any number of stressed watchers' moaning by proxy on his shoulders, the main barrier to happy nuclear slayer families was finding suitable mates.

A slayer's life, while vastly improved since the activation, was still perilous and demanding, and in many ways being a slayer's paramour was tougher still, and those up to it were rarely the stay at home and knit booties sort. As well, slayers, much as they might bitch and moan about finding some nice normal guy, very seldom fell for the domestic type. With a few exceptions, of course.

As for Willow… well, it wasn't something that was going to happen by accident and the witch still had all kinds of paralyzing issues that prevented her from taking the necessary deliberate steps to make a child happen. Though Giles had a feeling that despite her timid air Kaitlyn had enough spine to force a decision of some kind in the middling near future…. All of which, Giles suddenly decided, was more than he wanted to contemplate before breakfast on what was after all the first vacation he'd taken in years.

"Shall we, ladies?" he said, nodding toward the dining room, "if the dinner service was anything to judge by, breakfast may well be worth lingering over."

He felt Buffy throwing off her momentary melancholy, saw Zoey brighten and start forward herding Dawn and Willow along, first rule of slayer management, food always an acceptable alternative to sage advice, or anything else, really.

Andrew and Timothy were already at a table, laughing, "Oh my god, you guys, you missed it…"

"Missed what?" Dawn asked.

"A couple of the Faith's came in with boxes of doughnuts," Andrew said, and Timothy interrupted,

"The real funny part was how all the waiters suddenly disappeared."

"No," Andrew insisted, "the funny part was when the chef, this fat little blonde number about this high, came out and chased them around the room with a cleaver."

"The waiters came back, didn't they?" Zoey said, looking around at the half-empty diningroom, just as a dark-haired head peered out of the kitchen, then a slim latino came hurrying over to their table.

"Good morning," he said, "I am Pedro, I will be your waiter, and please, someone order the Chef's special omelet or the Quiche Sookie or the Sunrise fritatta… or just ask for something difficult…."

"Relax, Pedro," Giles said, "you've come to right table."

The visibly relieved Pedro was delivering coffee and Giles' tea when Xander and Faith returned, Faith with just a slight hint of redness around the eyes, but smiling.

"Sorry guys, just caught me by surprise a little. These people are out of their minds."

"Yeah," Dawn said, "but you gotta admit they were cute."

"What's cute?" Andrew asked.

"Oh nothing."

"It's okay, really," Faith said, "there's a daycare center Andrew, with kids dressed up like me and Xan and if I see even one picture of them on your website you're a dead man. Pass the menu, would you."

Faith had finished her "Egg's Olé " and had started on her Chef's Special Ham and Bacon omelet with extra bacon and extra ham when Willow suddenly gasped and sat up straight staring, Faith turned to see where her gaze was fixed and saw a tall brunette striding energetically through the dining room and into the kitchen.

"Goddess," Willow whispered, turning to Kaitlyn, "did you see her aura?"

"Yes," Kaitlyn answered with a shudder, "what do you think it is?"

"I don't know, but I think we better find out…. Oh my."

Faith turned again and this time saw delicate girl, pretty in a mousy sort of way, walking slowly thought the dining room pausing to talk to one of the waiters before following the brunette into the kitchen. Faith turned back and saw Willow grinning goofily, her wide smile echoed on Kaitlyn's suddenly radiant face.

"Hey, Red," she said, "what the hell are you two on and how come I didn't get any?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Sookie," Lorelai said, "what did you do?"

"Nothin'."

"Michel says you chased three of our guests out of the dining room with a cleaver."

"It was nothin'. They didn't even fight back."

"Maybe because you had a cleaver?"

"They had swords. And greasy diner doughnuts. In my dining room. I should have made "lamb fritters" out of them and called it "The Special."" We could be famous."

"With our new slogan, 'Eat a Doughnut and Die.'"

"Hey, catchy."

Lorelai pulled Pedro aside, "Why is she happy now?"

"Table twelve ordered the daily specials, two of everything. With extra bacon."

"Hey Sookie," Rory said, coming into the kitchen.

"Hey Rory, have a tart."

"How come I didn't get a tart?" Lorelai complained.

"Rory needs to fatten up little, put a little meat on those bones."

"And I don't?"

"Ummm."

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"No. No. Not at all. Here. Have a tart. Have some bacon on it. Have some butter on that bacon, or, here, have some lard, you want some lard?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai found the women, several one-eyed men and a collection of half-empty doughnut boxes just outside the inn.

"Ladies, I'm sorry, the chef is a little high-strung, great artists,…"

"Ah, don't worry about it, it was fun," one of the women said. "Is it safe to come in yet? We can leave the doughnuts out here, right? Doughnuts, kind of a thing with us, but some of us want to have a real breakfast."

"Sure, come on in… would you mind… if I just had one? And took one for my daughter?"

"Help yourself. But if we see that cleaver you're on your own."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"These are very strange people, Michel," Lorelai said, joining him behind the front desk.

"You are telling me these are strange peoples? I am telling you since yesterday when the very first one arrived that these are very strange peoples. Of course, since it was your chef who was chasing people with a cleaver, you are perhaps not in a position to point fingers, yes? So I am telling you, these are very strange people."

"Am I looking particularly attractive today?" Lorelai asked.

"No, not particularly, why?"

"Why, thank you, Michel, such old fashioned charm, it makes a girl feel all special."

"You asked, I answered, I speak to you only the truth. It is a compliment."

"Only in the Land of Michel… _Gerardia._ Did you know, that sounds very much like a disease I think you get from drinking water cows have flapped in. I saw it on the Discovery Channel. They had pictures of cows flapping."

"Thank you so much for sharing that with me. It is a moment I shall treasure forever."

"Where was I?"

"You were wondering if you were more beautiful than usual and I said you were not."

"Oh, right, I just wondered, because those two women keep staring at me."

"You mean the redheaded woman with the eye patch and the man's shirt and the brunette in black leather who keeps holding her hand, they are not staring at you, they are staring at Rory."

"Oh. Really. Do you think it's wrong that that upsets me? No, because if it was two strange men staring at Rory I would be just as upset. So that's okay then. I'm all politically correct."

"That depends on whether you are upset because they are staring at Rory or because they are not staring at you. Because if it was two strange men staring at you, you would be very happy."

"Now you sound like my mother."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

XLH Reginald S.-S., XLH Al J., XLH Bill R., XLH Anthony B and XLH Timothy M. filed into the meeting room and took seats near the back of the small auditorium.

"So," Reg said softly, "You're quite certain Faith's all right?"

"Yeah," Al answered. "We've been, you know, talking a bit, maybe slowing down a little, staying in one place a little longer… Maybe a family…. Just talk. Nothing urgent. She's pretty convinced she'd be a terrible mother. I'm working on her a little."

"Well, you two have more than earned some time off, and of course, if there's anything I can do…"

"I know. You know, it's not like I'm a hundred percent gung ho on the idea myself. It just kinda jumped up and hit us between the eyes there. We'll work it out."

And then a tall, rather athletic man limped onto the small stage and the seventh annual meeting of the Xander L. Harris Doppelganger Society was underway.

-30-


	5. Chapter 5: Concourse – Pt 1

**Chapter 5: Concourse – Pt. 1**

**A/N:** For disclaimers, warnings etc see Chapter 1

**IN ADDITION,** the author would like to point out that, as a rule, he is willing, even eager, to receive corrections and advice regarding his use and abuse of canon.

However, in the following situation, where the author is only acting as a conduit, relaying excerpts of the presentations as given at the _Seventh Annual Meeting of the Xander L. Harris Doppelganger Society_ as faithfully as possible, the author does not take responsibility for any errors in fact, canon or interpretation made by the presenters. Any person wishing to dispute the information and conclusions of, for example, XLH Harvey P., should contact that person directly.

No, the author is not in a position to forward correspondence.

Thank you,  
Litmouse.

Chapter 5: Concourse – Pt. 1

"Hey Mom," Rory said "why are they locking up the auditorium?"

"They're having a secret meeting."

"But there's a bunch of the women still in the dining room."

"Yes. All of them, actually. The secret meeting is for boys only."

"Really."

"But if one was nosy…"

"Inquisitive."

"And happened to know a person with access to all the weird little keys…"

"Such as the manager."

"Such a person might be able to sneak into the old projection box in the back and spy…"

"Observe…."

"…on what the boys get up to. Just don't blame me if they get naked and dance around in a circle beating bongos…"

"Ew. Well, now that I have image in my head whatever they do it can only be an improvement. Give me the key."

"Ha. There is no key. The locks broken, has been since 1844."

"They had a projection booth in 1844?"

"Well, 1944, whatever. Go, spy, my pretty, spy!"

Rory turned and was just starting down the half-hidden corridor when she was surprised to see Jess skulking into the Inn.

"Jess? What are you doing here?"

"Luke sent me to see if you had any leftover doughnuts."

"Oh. Well, think there some boxes in the back I don't know…."

"Rory… I'm joking. I don't know. I just suddenly had this desire to come see you. Babette said she didn't know where you were, but that you certainly weren't at the Inn so thought I'd come see if you wanted to do something…"

"Actually, I was about to go spy on the secret meeting."

"The astronomers? That sounds boring."

"What astronomers?"

"Luke said your mother had booked some scientist types who were interested in Xena so I figured astronomers. But if they're archaeologists we should definitely listen in 'cause that could be pretty funny."

"I'm pretty sure they're not archaeologists."

"C'mon, let's get out of here. Go to Hartford, hit a couple bookstores and a movie or something…."

"Welll…..Okay," and with one last look at the dusty corridor Rory allowed Jess to lead her out of the inn.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Giles shifted in his chair and fought the soporific influence of the substantial breakfast… He was still too young, he insisted to himself, to start falling asleep in public. Nevertheless he realized he had just woolgathered through most of the opening statement. He polished his glasses, straightened his shoulders and prepared to listen. After all, although the others had mostly come for the fun of it, he fully intended to shut these idiots down if he determined that they posed any kind of threat, whether intentional or inadvertent.

It was time for the Old Business.

_XLH Geoffrey T._ was reprimanded but not expelled, on the grounds that, while the XLHDS frowned on Faith-poaching, investigation in this case had determined that in this instance the Faith had not only made the first move but was seriously hot. They would leave any discipline of the Faith in question to the ladies.

_XLH Ramon Q. _and_ F. Maria Q._ were expelled in absentia on the grounds that describing their demon scamming exploits on a blog was really, really stupid.

"Many demons," XLH Joseph B. reminded the group, "are quite computer literate, in fact the true extent to which demons have contributed to a number of popular software packages, while long suspected, is only now coming to light in knowledgeable circles."

"That's true," XLH Anthony Bells whispered, "did you know…."

"Not now, And…thony," hissed XLH Bill R.

There was a moment of silence for XLH. Mark O.

"Sex with demons," Joseph B. noted, "is _not_ vital, and _is_ often fatal. Just lie about it like everybody else. Seriously."

There was a moment of silence for XLH. Giorgio M.

"Remember, gentlemen, your Faith. _Not really a slayer."_

Moment of Silence for F. Jeanne l.

"Again I remind you. Your Faith, not really a slayer. Don't forget that. And don't let _her_ forget it either. "

"Gentlemen," Joseph B. said, "In light of the importance of this meeting the committee felt that a common understanding of our history would be beneficial and we would like to thank XLH Harvey P. for volunteering to take on this vital task with his usual diligence. Harvey…"

XLH Harvey P. was a sandy-haired man in his early-to-mid thirties with, Giles thought, a certain primness of manner that, despite the shirt and eye patch, was about as far from Xanderness as it was possible to get.

He limped onto the stage, pushing a wheeled podium into place on the right side of the stage, locked the wheels and nodded and the lights dimmed. Behind him Joesph B. reached up and pulled down a whitescreen. Harvey nodded again and an upside down picture of a uniformed policeman appeared to a small wave of laughter. After a moments fumbling the slide was pulled out of the projector and reset right side up.

Once you get past the idea of Xander in police uniform, Giles thought, the young man in the picture did bear a striking resemblance to a pre-scarred Xander.

"How many of you gentlemen recognize this man?" Harvey P. asked and about three fourths of the room raised their hands.

"This is of course Walter "Walt" Peckham, may he rest in peace, who, if not technically the first member of the Society must be considered our true, if not necessarily illustrious, forebear. At the time of this picture he was a beat cop in Tacoma, Washington, which like any port city has a substantial demonic population. He was a practicing if not particularly devout Catholic and accepted the existence of demons as part of Scripture. Walt worked the docks and the hard streets of Seattle's blue collar cousin and, to the usual extent, he knew the score. He knew to look the other way when a death was attributed to gangs on PCP, if strange things scuttled into the shadows, he knew better than to follow. He had a steady if unspectacular career." Harvey nodded again and the picture changed, showing the same man a few years older, in the standard issue cheap dark suit of the plain clothes cop, still looking remarkably Xander like, if a bit on the serious side.

"At the age of thirty, Walt made detective. He had been married five years and had two children. At age thirty-two, Walt's life became a country song. His wife left him for a Seattle acupuncturist, he learned one of his children wasn't actually his.

Shortly thereafter he lost his temper when arresting a suspect of Chinese heritage and beat the man severely and was suspended from the force. Advised to get out of town until the publicity died down he took a vacation to Hawaii accompanied by a younger, female member of the Tacoma PD. In Hawaii he was involved in an auto accident, his companion was killed and he was arrested for DUI. Due to injuries received in the accident he lost his left eye, had substantial scarring on his torso and his right knee was crushed. You gentlemen may make what you will of the fact that Walt Peckham had a bad right leg and walked with a cane _before_ the Man Himself received that particular injury…"

"After two months of physical rehabilitation and running out of money, he returned to Tacoma. Due to his injuries he was unable to return to active duty, his request for disability was denied, officially because of the DUI, unofficially because the officer who died was quite popular. Walt sued. Between legal fees and the divorce settlement he lost his house. He found himself living in a flophouse with a hotplate, working the night shift at a 7-11 to make ends meet. Walt's life, to put it plainly, sucked. I think it was fair to assume, and Walt never denied it, that there was at least an element of suicide in his choice of bars to drown his sorrows in that particular fateful night…."

"It was just luck, and a tendency to get behind on the laundry that led to him wearing one of the shirts he'd picked up on his doomed vacation. As he told the story, he bellied up to the bar and demanded a drink from the startled bartender without paying much attention to the other clientele. He was aware of the two men sidling up behind him, but as a long time cop he wasn't too worried about getting bothered by a couple barflies. It was only after double-taking on the fact that they did not appear in the mirror behind the bar that he understood the trouble he was in. A little belligerent with alcohol and not much caring, he'd turned to face his fate and the two vampires took in the eye patch and the shirt and suddenly stepped back, one said,

"Holy shit, it's Harris," and continued backing away. The other stayed his ground, asking,

"Watchya doin' here alone, the slayer let you off your leash for a night?"

"Now," Harvey said, "this part of the story has been told both ways, one is that Walt, in his troubles, had clung to his religion, others say it was the pure sarcasm of the disaffected, in either case what happened next made history. Walt waved his hand in the general direction of the gold cross he wore on a thin chain around his neck… or rather where it had been until he'd hocked it two days before… and he said,

"My Faith is always with me," and saw the second vampire glance quickly around and then back away in turn as the bar slowly emptied but for a small table in the back where a few vamps remained, poised near the rear door, talking among themselves and glancing over at Walt. He overheard a few phrases, he heard, "Sunnydale," and "Xander Harris" and "Slayer's Pet," and, what at the time he thought was "Fluffy, the Red bitch." He heard "hellmouth" and "Scooby." He had another drink out of sheer hubris, and when the bartender nervously refused payment he knew he was on to something. He left that bar not only alive and filled with the adrenaline rush of surviving a close call, but filled also, for the first time in a long time, with curiosity, a new interest in life..."

"Walt," Harvey continued, "may not have been Columbo, but he was a competent detective. He started, of course, online. And quickly found the character "Xander Harris, demon fighter" as part of a fairly new role-playing game….. "

XLH Anthony B. beamed, sat up straighter, looked over at his companions. Then slowly sank back down and sat hunched in his chair. Timothy patted his knee in sympathy, whispered,

"Well, _I _think it's cool."

"Walt," Harvey continued, "found it hard to believe that vampires were afraid of a character in a game, and made the logical jump that there must be some reality behind the fiction. He consulted the experts." Harvey nodded and the slide changed to a picture of Walt Peckham, with eyepatch, cane and Hawaiian shirt, holding a stake and posing with four rather nerdish young men, one of which was clearly Harvey P.

"This," Harvey said, indicating the picture, "was the true first meeting of the XLHDS. It took place in Bellevue which is just east of Seattle, and we called ourselves the Xander Harris Four, we'd met online because at the time, the way the game was set up there could only be one Xander playing at a time, and we were trying to set up a rotation and found we had a lot in common. There was just something about the character that appealed to us all, and it brought us together and we started our own semi-serious Xander-based web-site …. Peckham contacted us, asked if he could meet with us. We said sure. It's not like we had a whole lot going on at the time. Walt told us it was all real. We thought he was crazy. But he was doing what in our hearts we all wanted to do… he was becoming Xander Harris. He was a loser turning himself into a hero."

Unable to resist the urge, Giles glanced over at the XLH Al J. who was covering his face in his hands so that only bits of the bright red showed through as a grinning XLH Bill R. whispered in his ear.

Harvey continued, "I'll spare you the details, but we began to search in earnest for the truth behind the game. We didn't know it then, of course, but this was a time of great upheaval in the supernatural world. Buffy the Godkiller, with the help of the Scooby Gang, had gone down into hell, slain a Demon King, and freed the First Slayer who had been imprisoned there and returned her to the earth's surface. The First Slayer then traveled throughout the world, activating potential slayers and releasing what the vampires and demons referred to as a 'plague of slayers' on the world. The First Slayer then returned to her long awaited bed of bones in a magically concealed African cave."

Despite himself, Giles grinned as heard the _sotto voce _yet still indignant "Hey," from XLH Bill R. and a snicker from XLH Al. J.

"Buffy and the Scoobies then used an experimental bomb they had stolen from a secret US testing site to destroy the mouth of hell, the explosion taking out the town of Sunnydale in the process, leaving Buffy, the Scoobies and the activated potential slayers free to roam the world. No vampire, no demon was safe. Any little girl in any alley in the world could suddenly turn from an easy meal into sudden death…

"Worse, Faith, the half-mad Dark Slayer, had begun her rampage around North America, the bars and clubs, the secret caves, all the places demons and vampires had thought of as safe havens were no longer secure. Faith traveled at the speed of Harley Davidson and at random, by the time word of the latest decimated demon enclave spread she was gone and might be anywhere. It was said she could be paid off, but usually only after taking a couple heads, and even then, if the wrong word was said, if the offered payment was insufficient, if she was just in a bad mood, then there was no quarter given, only slaughter. While master vampires and the leaders of demon clans feared drawing Godkiller Buffy's ire, the average vamp-in-a-bar trembled at the sound of V-twin and a glimpse of black leather…

"Demons and vampires may seem fearsome creatures to us but they had lived a long time with little or no opposition other than the not uncommon internecine battles, a lone Slayer and the occasional torch bearing mob, with those growing fewer and fewer as the bright shiny technology flooded the world and reduced the remaining believers to the very fringes of society…. Suddenly their world was full of new and hidden dangers and it took them some time to adjust..."

"It was known that Buffy had retired to Rome, that the Red Witch had joined the Watcher in England, but the fourth Scooby, the One Who Sees had disappeared. We know now, of course, that he was in Africa and perhaps the demons on that dark continent knew as well, but elsewhere the rumors flew, he was dead, he'd been turned, the more optimistic demons said. But more often it was said he acted as a stalking horse, some said he scouted out new hellmouths and demon communities and informed Buffy or the Witch and they would make a secret raid, others said he had developed his own mystic powers, some even drew the obvious and correct conclusion that he was recruiting new slayers, but offered no proof. Still others said he acted as Faith's advance guard, spying out lucrative targets for her to attack. He was seen here, there, he was everywhere. He was nowhere…."

Harvey paused and took a drink, sighed theatrically and nodded and a new slide appeared, one of original Xander Harris Four, in full regalia, eye patch and bright shirt, grinning widely and brandishing a stake.

"For us it was still a game. We thought we had stumbled into some hardcore Society for Creative Anachronism types, just with a supernatural bent. We thought Walt Peckham was a harmless lunatic who brought a little fun and focus into our cubicled lives. Until," Harvey pointed at the slide, "Until my friend Brian Langford went to go see Walt at that funky bar he'd told us about and was never seen again." Harvey paused to let it sink in, his face working just bit.

Giles watched and wondered if this was an oft-told tale adn the fighting-back-tears a bit of drama, or if it was the first time and the sudden emotion genuine…. He decided he couldn't really tell.

"We know what happened to Brian, because the next time Walt went into the bar the bartender told him about it, laughing about how some fool had come into the bar pretending to be him, Xander Harris, and had been drained and thrown in the Sound for his troubles. And then ----- whatever we may say about Walt Peckham now, how he lost the way--- what Walt Peckham did then was a very courageous thing. He asked the bartender who the vamp was that drained Brian. And that night he came back to the bar and found the vamp and staked him. And he stood there in a crowded bar full of demons and vamps and told them that just because he had tolerated their existence didn't mean they had free rein. He told them if they ever pulled anything like that again he would have Faith and a couple new Slayers on them so fast you wouldn't be able to see the demon heads for all the vampire dust. He spoke to them as if it didn't even occur to him that they would dare attack him. And he turned and marched out of that bar untouched, and he understood fully for the first time that he had truly fooled them. That they weren't tolerating him as sort of a joke, as he had sometimes thought in paranoid moments. They really believed him. _They feared him._ And nothing was ever the same after that..."

"The next day he came up to Bellevue, picked us up, myself, Ed. G. and Derrin M., and he took us to that bar and made a vamp show us her game face and introduced us to a couple demons and then took us to the mall to buy clean underwear and fresh pants. I'll be honest, we wanted to quit after that. We were timid little geeks playing a game and we wanted nothing to do with the real thing."

"But Walt wouldn't let us. He had decided he was going to get more out this than free drinks. He needed us to help him locate other demon bars. And he needed us to keep track of Xander sightings, because he was terrified of one thing; having the same thing happen to him that happened to Brian. He was terrified he would go into bar that the real Xander had just left, or some other pretender. He was sure that because there were so many sightings reported that some of them had to either be real or of some other one-eyed guy who made the same discovery he had. And he was right, of course. Robert Y. who is with us today was one, and two or three others we eventually located…. " he looked out into the crowd, spotted a waving hand, "Ah, of course, also Jaime who is also still with us. …. Sorry, I didn't see you earlier, Jaime, good to see you..."

"Walt developed a regular route up and down the west coast, stop in at a bar, hit them up for protection money, move on…. He determined around five hundred bucks was what he could take without much resistance. As he learned more and more about the demonic world he found other targets as well. Demon-run businesses that wanted to keep a low profile, vampires who had moved out of the crypts an into apartments and condos and worked from home on computers or over the phone to pay the bills and avoid the daylight. He learned that demons had other things to trade beside cash… precious metals of course but also mystic influence over events, insight into the future. Stock tips. Racing tips. It was growing business. Ed, Derrin and I quit our jobs and began working full time at XLH Inc. Ed put on the eyepatch and the shirt and went on the road, moving inland. Derrin and I tracked sightings, monitored demonic chatrooms. We managed the money, we played the market, bet on the horses...

"And we did something else. We studied the life of Xander Lavelle Harris. But I'll return to that later….. "

"As I said, it was a growing business. We needed help in the office. Walt wanted more Xanders on the road. We mapped off territories. A city like LA or Chicago, New York could support two or three Xanders, Dallas or Kansas City could keep one Xander busy, maybe two. A roving Xander could handle two or three smaller cities and the towns in between. We began to recruit. Derrin and I cruised the gamerooms, Walt used his police contacts and contacted con men recently released from prison, we invited promising prospects to Seattle for evaluation and considered ourselves lucky to find one in twenty acceptable. But you don't simply hire a man for a job like that, no man goes into a demon bar with nothing but an eyepatch and line of bullshit for a salary. We sold franchises. One of the first to our own Joseph B. who covered the twin cities, Minneapolis/St. Paul, and upstate Minnesota. To be sure, we fronted the money for some of Walt's recruits, but every man was working for himself, the greatest incentive there is.

"We had the west coast covered, even down into Mexico. We had the big mid-western cities and at least one Xander in every southern state. It was just a damn shame we couldn't go public and sell shares on Wallstreet, we would all have been rich beyond our wildest fancies based on the income expense ratio alone. And then, as it often does just when things are going well, disaster struck.

"Xander Lavelle Harris came back from Africa."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai Gilmore stood at the window and looked out at the women seated in a half-circle on the grass by the lake, watching an enormous woman with biceps like a linebacker invite other women to come forward and be hit by a stick.

"I don't see the appeal, I really don't," she said.

"I don't know," Michel said beside her, "I have often felt the desire to hit certain women with a stick. If they are willing to line up for the privilege, so much the better. Of course, my genteel upbringing makes actually taking such an action unthinkable. But I certainly see the appeal."

"Yes, but what about the women being hit? What's in it for them?"

"That I cannot tell you."

"Oh, oh, she's having trouble with that one. Someone is making teacher look bad in front of the class. This could get ugly…. Oh, now, she just let her do that. That's no fun."

And then the women began to rise and break off into pairs. They took up various _en garde_ positions and began to spar.

"Oh, look," Lorelai said, "now they're going to bang their sticks together. We should call Taylor, we should have them back next year and bang their sticks together in front of the gazebo, we could call it _The Annual Stars Hollow Women Banging Sticks Festival._ I bet it would draw a crowd."

"Speaking of Monsieur Taylor, he has called three times to remind you to attend tonight's emergency town meeting regarding your guests."

"Or what, they'll come marching out here with torches? Maybe I should invite the women with sticks to come to the meeting with me. I bet that would be fun. Put a message up on the bulletin board inviting all the guests of the Independence Inn to attend a quaint New England town meeting."

"You must be joking."

"No, Michel, I'm not joking, what makes you think I'm joking?"

"Your lips are moving."

"Go. Make a big sign. With directions. Go. Now."

"I am going. I will make the sign. But they will not come."

"We'll see. What could be more exciting than a quaint New England town meeting?"

"I do not have time to answer that question," Michel said. "Life is too short to answer that question."

**-30-**


	6. Chapter 6: Concourse – Pt 2

**Chapter 6: Concourse – Pt. 2**

**A/N:** For disclaimers, notes and warnings see Chapter 1.  
Do bear in mind, A/N for Concourse Pt. 1 still apply.

**Chapter 6: Concourse – Pt. 2**

"Xander Lavelle Harris came back from Africa," XLH Harvey P. repeated. "Worse still, he settled on the Hellmouth. The Hellmouth is like the demon's Hollywood. Nothing that happens there goes unnoticed. The demons got the word before we did. We lost eight men the first day, three more the next and two more after that before we were finally able to reach every one and call them in."

He paused, then, looked down, chewed his lip, Giles was almost sure the emotion was genuine, but this is, he reminded himself a convention of con men.

"I don't think those men had easy deaths," Harvey went on. "We certainly never recovered any bodies. And no, we didn't try that hard. We were too busy running, moving everything, looking over our shoulders, expecting at any moment a horde of enraged demonic bartenders and shopkeepers to descend and take their vengeance. I don't think they ever came. I think the demons who realized they'd been fooled didn't want to admit it, others probably never realized he'd been in Africa _all _that time, all they knew was that _now_ he was living on the Hellmouth, recovering from serious injuries.

"But we were sure they were coming for us. We moved lock stock and barrel to sunny sunny Phoenix and we waited. And waited. One by one people began to slip away, moving on to new cons, or slipping gratefully back into the workaday nine to five demon free grind.

"Three months after his return there was only about twenty of us left. True believers, if you will. Some of us stayed because we had come too close to the brass ring, and we just couldn't let go. Some of us stayed because, hell, we had no where else to go. And some of us stayed because being Xander Harris had become our lives. It was what made us … different. Special.

"Most of us stayed for all of the above. And there was another thing." Harvey P. paused, leaned forward, spoke directly to someone in the audience, said, "Robert, you'll have your turn, I guess you know where I stand, but I am going to try to keep this as neutral as I can, but this is part of the history…."

"It's okay, Harv," a man answered, "I'll wait my turn."

"I mentioned earlier, we studied the life of Xander Harris. And some of us began to feel a little ashamed. To be fair, that only happened after the money was coming in, you could say we had a case of luxury conscience, and there is some truth in that. Also that, well, we finally had time to sit back and think…

"But the feeling was genuine. We liked to tell ourselves that it wasn't just the money, that anything that was bad for demons had to be a blow struck for Good-with-a-capital-G, right? But we knew… we didn't go after the big clans, or the master vamps. We hit the small fry, the relatively harmless. And mostly we just annoyed them. Xander Harris, demon fighter, very cool. Harvey P., _demon irritation specialist._ Not gonna be one of the really hot trading cards anytime soon.

"We wanted to do better. But what? We had a decent war chest, we had a pretty good demon database, what the hell were we gonna do with it? Of course, while we all sat on our thumbs and studied our navels, Walt Peckham was the one who came up with the next plan of action. Walt Peckham who saw the obvious.

"Who were the demons really afraid of?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

These women, F. Charity Wigglesworth decided, were _insane_ and some of them, the ones who had actually ventured into the demons' domain, were damn lucky to be alive. They had guts, though, she'd give them that. She could almost forgive them for making her out to be a slut of low standards. Almost.

She had been put off at first by the self-appointed fencing instructor's know-it-all manner, and had come _thisclose_ to teaching the silly cow a lesson. But she'd realized that at least the woman was trying. She had learned some things and she was trying to pass them on and didn't deserve to be humiliated by someone with genuine superpowers. F. Charity had backed off and spent the rest of the sparring session guiding her partners gently in the direction of at least not cutting their own heads off.

Most of the women had gone to shower, but F. Charity had not come close to breaking a sweat, so she skipped the ablutions, and found herself drawn to the daycare center again. She stood, leaning against the doorjam, watching the children play.

"Which one's yours?" said a voice beside her and she turned, saw the tall brunette who seemed to run the place.

"None," F. Charity answered, "just thinking about it."

"Ah, _thinking first, _wow," the woman said, "people really do that? I'd heard that, but wow, to see it really happening, amazing."

F. Charity glanced sharply at the woman, but decided she meant no offense. "Do you have kids?" she asked.

"Yes, a daughter, Rory. She's going to Harvard next year. Or possibly Yale."

"You must be proud."

"Oh yeah. You could tell, huh? For what it's worth, if I'd been _thinking_ on a certain balcony many years ago I wouldn't have her, and she's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I'm more worried I wouldn't be good for her. Or him. My mom…. Wasn't the best mom ever, yeah?"

"You should meet my mother, the wicked witch of Hartford."

"Your mom's a witch? Cool."

"What? Oh no, not a Witch witch. I mean, she wouldn't be caught dead touching a broomstick for one thing, and having a cat in the house would be totally out of the question and if the devil ever showed up at midnight and demanded that she worship him she'd just make him wipe his feet and tell him to come back at a decent hour in the morning. No, she's just a graduate of the Stepford School of Soul Destruction, with an advanced degree in Daughter Mortification…. What was your mom like?"

"Oh she…. just wasn't around very much."

"Well, I'll say this much for my mother, she taught me all kinds of things _not_ to do with my daughter. I'm not saying I never made any mistakes, or that there's nothing I regret, but I am a very good mother and my kid turned out just fine. I mean I know they say we all grow up to be our mothers… well, I say we don't have to if we don't wanna or we'd all still be… Donna Reed or June Cleaver or something. "

F. Charity laughed, "Well, one thing I ain't worried about is turning into June Cleaver. If I got a kid one thing I'm gonna teach'em, any one calling them shit like 'The Beaver' gets their ass kicked, pronto."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harvey P. nodded and a new slide came up showing a large, very muscular black woman wearing black leather jeans, black tank top and brandishing a sword.

"Michael 'Michelle' Carmichael," Harvey said. "Our first 'Faith.' Michelle was a pre-op transsexual that Walt had arrested for prostitution a couple times in Tacoma. We may have taken the phrase _'dark slayer'_ a bit too literally. But we had no real picture of Faith at the time. Sure, there were the cartoon images of the hot girl with big tits on the RPG site, which we all enjoyed. But we didn't really believe them. After all, as I understand it, the real Lady Croft is a leather-faced old broad who stands five foot nothing in her habitual black gumboots, generally wears a rumpled old mac and her most prominent physical feature is her two front teeth, but that's not what you see on the net. This, in our heart of hearts, is what we figured a _real_ Slayer looked like… Of course we've since learned better, but if we knew then what we know now…" He shrugged, shook his head.

"In our defense, we warned her. Several times, over and over. Even Walt warned her. But Michelle wanted to get off the streets, she wanted the money, she had the moves with the sword and she had the attitude. May she rest in peace...

"Walt went a little mad. We'd learned by then about Harris' limp, the same leg as Walt's. In the interest of consistency most of us had been mimicking Walt's limp whenever we took on the Harris' role, so we all still matched. We learned of the scars on Harris abdomen, Walt of course had scars there as well and made much of the fact that he had had the limp and the scars before Harris did. For Walt they were clearly stigmata. He had been marked. _Chosen._"

Harvey paused, "I'm talking to you calmly now, more or less, I think, reasonably. But those were not calm and reasonable times. Walt was our leader. Everyone who had a life elsewhere had already left. More than anything we feared the cubicle purgatory that awaited us if we failed." He nodded, another largish woman in black leather appeared on the screen.

"Naomi was all woman," Harvey said. "All heart. May she rest in peace." He nodded. The next woman was tall as well, but slimmer, athletic. "Farrah is, as far as I know, still alive." Harvey said. "And as far as I know, she's still running." He nodded. Another girl in black leather, shorter, sturdy.

"Bonnie. May she rest in peace. We didn't understand that demons are like humans. What they fear is the unknown. Even now, I understand, if a Slayer walks into a bar there will almost always be at least one demon who will challenge her. The girl in front of them just isn't as frightening as the _idea_ of _The Slayer._ No demon wants to be the one to bring Buffy or Faith into the local safe haven. But once they are already there…

"Bonnie was the end. We may have been stupid. But we weren't crazy. We weren't sending any more girls to their deaths, not even for Walt. So Walt had a new idea. If pretending to be demon hunters didn't work, well then we'd have to become the real thing. We fought, we argued, we wet our pants. But in the end we agreed. We sacked up. We got our weapons, we made our plans, we picked out a demon bar in Flagstaff Arizona, we picked a day and a time."

Harvey stopped, walked to the front of the stage, glared out at his audience.

"I've heard the stories, don't think I haven't," he spit out. "They're not true. We were there. I was there, in place, at midnight, just as we agreed. And I'm telling you no one reset Walt's watch. No one changed the meeting time. I have no idea why Walt went in early, but it was some reason of his own. _Bravado._ Perhaps in the end he couldn't bear to lead us to what probably would have been our deaths, and went alone instead. To save us. That is what I prefer to believe…But what I _know_ is that we were there, in the alley, waiting for the signal to attack…. And a demon came out and began throwing Walt at us. An arm. A foot. His ribs. His head...

"What can I say? We ran like hell." Harvey turned, retreated behind his podium, drank some water.

"So _then_ it was over. Almost. We had three more months on our office lease. We were arguing about whether to split the remaining money or try to start up some sort of ordinary business. And then a miracle happened. Two miracles.

"First, Faith showed up in Cleveland, hooked up with Harris and they began their travels."

"The second miracle was Ms. Sarah Padlewski, known to you all now, of course, as F. Sarah B."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You want what?" F. Alba said.

"A lock of her hair," F. Kaitlyn G. answered. "Willow asked me to get it if I had a chance, we need to run a couple tests 'cause there's really something wrong with her aura. I was thinking we could get your sister to talk to her, you know the way she does….?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Right, so when the manager starts getting that really glazed look I thought you and I could come running up and sort of bump into each other and I would get entangled in her hair…" Kaitlyn held up a hand carrying four large silver rings, each depicting an open mouthed animal, wolf, dragon etc. "And then we'll take Buffy away and she'll be so grateful she won't think twice about the hair thing."

"Okay, we can do that," F. Alba said and went off to find her sister, "Hey B…..Anne," she said when she found her grilling the woman who'd led the Faiths' second session, 'Skintight with Comfort: Leather Care' "we need your help for a moment."

"Who's we?"

"Me an' Kaitlyn. We need to run a little scam thing, and we need you to do the talking."

"Again? You're the one who's so good with languages, how come you always want me to do the talking? You know I suck at undercover."

"We don't need to you be undercover, we just need you to be yourself. Just go up and ask the manager lady…. About that town meeting thing she put on the wall there. Just keep talking until we come and get you."

"Okay, just don't be too long. Last time you left me talking to that newsstand guy on the _via Malatesta_ for twenty minutes and now every time he sees me he hides under the counter."

"Well, the chances of a _really_ cute guy coming by on a scooter _here_ are really really slim, so I think you're safe."

"Better be."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What can I say about F. Sarah B.," Harvey P. said with a slightly wistful smile. "That won't have Joe B. up here punching me out, I mean," he added. "You've all seen her, you know she's beautiful, I expect you all know she was an Olympic caliber gymnast before she injured her knee, you all know how full of energy she is, how full of life…."

"Well imagine a bunch of sad sack guys sitting around a half empty office, avoiding each other's eyes and contemplating their future in the widget counting industry, when we hear the sound of a motorcycle pulling right up to the front door. And we go out and there is our own Joe B. on this bad ass Hog. With this amazing girl all in the black leather. She does a backflip off the back of the bike, does a couple front flips ending in split right in front of us, she does a front roll and comes up pulling a sword out of a scabbard on her back and takes a swing I swear leaves a tiny little mark on Derrin's belt buckle. Just for a moment there, one wonderful moment, we all had that little surge of excitement…. We thought we had a real Slayer…

Then Joe says, "'Meet our new Faith.'"

And at first we were all against it. We were all, 'c'mere baby, that guys gonna get you killed, you come home with me, I'll take care of you.' But she wasn't having any. Joe had told her the whole thing. And he had a new plan.

"We tried it out in Albuquerque. First thing we did, we made sure Harris and Faith weren't in Cleveland. Then Joe and Sarah went into a bar down on Central where we knew vamps liked to pass and hang out with the happy meals. Joe and Sarah went in, they drank and danced for awhile, let themselves be seen. Then I went in, acted like I was a bit drunk and got handsy with her and she backhands me." Harvey P. grinned. "So I do this back flip. It was, if I say so myself, one of my finer moments. I nailed that sucker. Ass over teakettle halfway across the room. Then Ed. G. and Derrin M. and a couple other guys leap up and attack her and of course make it look like she's just slapping us around like flies. Then she and Joe walk out of that bar like they're bored stiff.

"The next day Joe goes into a demon bar on Fifth by himself, and comes back out with two grand and the win-place-show results for the next six races at the Downs….

"And the rest, as they say is history. We expanded again. But slowly. We set up a warning system, a 24 hour hotline with the latest info on Harris and Faith. We made sure we always had two or three informants in Cleveland. We did our best to keep track of their travels… We didn't always know where they were…. But we found that if we didn't know, the demons probably didn't know either.

"Whenever possible we took information instead of cash as pay-offs. We bought into businesses, traded stocks, bet on the horses. We trained new Xander's and Faith's, we sold franchises…… And you guys know all this stuff, right? You cash your checks, you read your annual reports. Two years and retire, right, guys? Anybody got any complaints about the money?" He stared out into the room. "Didn't think so."

"And there is the other side of the coin now. We'd learned our lesson in Flagstaff. We aren't demon fighters. But we can still act in the spirit of Xander Lavelle Harris." He nodded and a new slide came up, showing a bunch of guys in eye-patches and Hawaiian shirts standing around a giant cardboard check with a lot of zeroes on it. "The XLH Foundation for the Victim's of Violence has offices in twelve countries. We fund orphanages. We purchase prosthetic limbs and fund the necessary physical therapy. We provide scholarships. Small business loans. We try to give priority to the victims of demons, but we certainly do not limit it. If a child has lost parents, a women her husband, a man his wife… whether to a hungry vampire or a forgotten land mine doesn't matter…. In this country we donate extensively to existing homeless shelters and directly fund the Faith in the Darkness Safehouses for Abused Children in sixteen major cities."

"When I lay awake at night and think of the dead, when I think of F. Bonnie's wide grin, or of poor Walt Peckham's head rolling to a stop at my feet, the XLH Foundation is what lets me sleep…

"Gentlemen I thank you for your attention. There have been several turning points in our brief history. I believe this meeting is another. I simply ask you to remember where all this started. With an ordinary young man in a small California town who found himself suddenly faced with the forces of darkness and responded with selfless courage and dedication. Ask yourself, when the day is done, if by some miracle you were given the chance to meet the Man Himself, would you be able to look him in the eye?"

Joseph B. took the stage as Harvey P. left to solid if not over-excited applause.

"Thank you, Harvey," he said. "Gentlemen, let's take fifteen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Giles first had to take care of the biological functions caused by an excess of tea with breakfast, then he went searching. He found him behind the boathouse, tossing pebbles in the water and watching the tiny ripples disappear.

"It's nothing to do with you, really," Giles' said. "You do understand that? If they really knew the first thing about the real you they would have never sent those girls to die."

"Yeah, maybe," Xander said. "It's still… freaky. In Vegas I just thought they were some bunch of…. harmless idiots. I figured on other week-ends they went to Renfaires and trekkie conventions. Instead I find out I came back to Cleveland and as a result thirteen people died."

"If you even try to feel guilty about that I'll have Willow turn you into a toad for the rest of the week-end."

"Weird, isn't it?"

"Which?"

"Frogs freak her the hell out but she's cool with toads. Must be a witch thing. We're thinking of settling down some. Me an' Faith. We'd still, you know, do some travelling, check in on the houses. Just maybe from like a steady base. A house even."

"Well, it's about time," Giles said. "You decided where yet?"

"I think we're agreed on warm. Beyond that it's kind up in the air. I suppose that would kinda put these guys out of business, wouldn't it? You think they really give a lot of money to those kids?"

"I'll have a couple of the lads check into it. And then I want to find out just how these gentlemen managed to avoid appearing our radar before this. But if you if you let that be any part of your decision, I won't just have Willow turn you into a toad, I'll have her give Faith a spell so she can do the transformation at will. Understood? Now let's get back. I'm particularly anxious to hear the presentation on What The Man Himself Would Say, aren't you?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the boathouse Definitely-Not-XLH Jules Verne, thirteen year-old son of XLH Renee V. turned and looked at his two companions, then down at the pipe he hadn't even lit yet. Then back at his companions.

"You guys hear that?"

"Yeah, but…. No way."

"But you heard it right?"

"Oh yeah."

"My Dad would freak."

"Your Dad would freak? My mom would lose what's left of her fucking mind."

"They'd never believe us anyway. I don't even believe it and I heard it. Someone's just playing a joke on us."

"Maybe. But we gotta check it out, right?"

"You think, if that was really him, you think that means…."

_"Faith's here?" _they said in unison. "Yeah. We _gotta_ check it out. Right after this bowl."

"Fuck that. We can smoke anytime. We gotta stay sharp if we're gonna get a picture of a real Slayer. Especially the Dark Slayer."

"Wait, how are we gonna know which one is her?"

"Easy, doofus. She'll be the winner of the lookalike contest."

**-30-**


	7. Chapter Seven: Transportation

**Chapter Seven: Transportation**

**A/N**: For disclaimers, notes and warnings see Chapter 1.  
Do bear in mind, A/N for Concourse Pt. 1 still apply.

**Chapter Seven: Transportation**

XLH Joseph B. took the stage and waited a moment for the conversations to slow to a murmur, then stop. Then he introduced the next speaker with, Giles thought, a lack of enthusiasm verging on animosity.

"Gentlemen," he said, "one of our veteran members, XLH Robert Y., presenting his Viewpoint, 'We are professionals.'"

XLH Robert Y. eschewed the limp and his eye-patch dangled from a pocket in his relatively subdued shirt. He was, by the standards of the room, an older man, in his early to mid forties with an air about him of weariness that suggested he had, as the phrase went, seen more of the world than serenity required.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I would like to start by thanking Harvey for his excellent and fair summation. And I would like to add, a lot of you are familiar with my views on Walt Peckham's death. But I want to make it clear that when Harvey says he was in that alley at midnight fully prepared to do his duty, I believe him. Harvey is an honorable guy, if perhaps a little naïve. _He_ was there. Some people he thinks were there, weren't…. I don't suppose we'll ever know exactly what happened, but that doesn't matter much in the long run. Walt was a loony, if didn't happen then it would have some other time. But Walt, sacrifice to save us? Not likely." He paused a moment, walked to the front of the stage.

"I had a walk around the parking lot this morning. There's some nice bikes out there. You all know what kind of bike Xander and Faith ride, right? A BMW GS. You know how many of those are out there? _Three._ Okay, fine, that's a big, tall and heavy bike. Maybe it's a bit much for the average 'Faith' to handle. There's about twenty Harley's out there. That makes sense. Faith's been known to ride a Harley, a Harley works the image. You what else is out there? About a dozen Honda Goldwings. Another dozen assorted rice burners. Yeah, I know, I know, Honda makes a good solid bike at a reasonable price. Big fucking deal. _Faith_ on a _Honda?_ Does that work for you? _Faith _on a _Goldwing_, the fucking _Winnebago_ of motorcycles? There's actually a Winnebago out there. And a bunch of SUV's with trailers for the bikes. You're getting soft, gentlemen.

"But the demons and the vamps aren't, gentlemen. They're the same. They're still deadly. You get sloppy, sooner or later you're going to get eaten. And you're thinking, yeah, maybe, but what do you care, Robert, you old bastard. And you're right, I'm not Harvey. I don't care. Except any time an Xander gets eaten, or just run out of town, it makes my life more dangerous. More difficult. _That _I care about."

He paced, peered out at his audience again. "Lotta new faces. Nothing succeeds like success, right? How many of you scared a demon this year?"

About three-quarters of the crowd raised a hand.

"Bullshit," said Robert Y. "Double bullshit with steam. No one in this room has ever scared a demon. Mr. Xander Lavelle Harris Himself does not scare demons. _Faith_ scares demons. _Buffy_ scares demons. _Slayers _scare demons. Mr. Harris' power lies in the fact that slayers love him. Our power lies in the illusion that slayers love us. The _illusion, _gentlemen. And the thing about an illusion, gentlemen, it has to be _more_ real than the real thing. If Faith decides she wants to drive a mini-van and wear pastel polyester suits, she can. 'Cause she can cut the head off any demon that laughs. We don't have that luxury…."

Giles glanced over at Willow and Xander as they fought not to laugh as they pictured Faith in pink polyester and a Ford Freestar. Giles had to smile himself. He leaned back and let his thoughts wander, as Robert Y. went on at some length. Giles felt a certain sympathy for the man, he'd felt the need often enough of late to lecture young watchers on the dangers of complacency. He resolved, however, that in future he would limit such lectures to a three minute maximum. The point was quickly made, there was no need to belabor it.

"This is all very nice," Robert finished up, "quaint country Inn in a demon-free zone, bring the kiddies, have a big dinner, admire each other's eye-patches. But seriously, if all you want to do is dress up funny and do good works, join the fucking shriners.

"One last word, any of you clowns show up in costume in my territory, I'll kill you myself."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The three boathouse companions argued. They were in the Verne's room obtaining Verne senior's camera when young Jules V. voiced the idea of telling their parents, on the grounds that if his father found out Jules had known Faith and Harris were there and hadn't told him, he would be lucky to survive long enough to be grounded for life.

Dustin, a rather chubby slightly older boy at the back side of fourteen, thought that they should keep it their little secret forever, a private joke to dwell on any time he got the 'Why can't you be more like Xander' lecture. Which he well knew was soon to become the 'When Xander was your age…' diatribe.

Vanessa, a lithe tomboyish just-turned-fourteen, was of the opinion they should get the pictures, and first, find a way of using them as an excuse to meet Faith herself, maybe get a picture with her. And secondly, to wait and reveal their knowledge at the moment of maximum possible embarrassment for the parental units.

She had her hand on Jules' shoulder and she was leaning forward speaking earnestly on this theme. Jules in turn was failing miserably in his honest and honorable attempts to not look down her shirt at the foothills of puberty and was, gradually, coming around to her side of the question. He made sure to note that she had very pale blue eyes, just so he would be ready if and when she asked. He was a bright, observant boy, and had learned from the mistakes of others.

They took the camera and a spare memory card and hurried downstairs and took up a position at the back of the diningroom. Jules soon realized they were premature, the lookalike contest wouldn't be for some time yet, the 'Faiths' were engaged in some dull discussion of benefits and profit sharing. But they were wedged in together at a small table, Vanessa pressed up against his side and he was reluctant to suggest a move.

"Let's see if we can't narrow it down," he said.

"Yeah," Vanessa said, "first we'll eliminate the fat ones. Then the blondes."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bored with the money talk F. Charity and F. Anne slipped away from the meeting and joined F. Kaitlyn in the potting shed where she was conducting a little alchemical experimentation with the hair sample they'd taken from the Inn manager.

"So, what's the what, witchy one?" F. Anne asked.

"I don't know," Kaitlyn said, "I've never seen anything quite like this. It's like a curse, but it's not exactly. She has a good soul, at heart, but … It's not really an accurate metaphor but its like she has a cancer of the soul … but there's no hate, usually when you have a soul that's …. sick like this there's hate involved and I see no hate here. In fact I see love, which should nourish a soul not weaken it. We'll have to have Will take a look over the lunch break. And we need to find that other girl, the mousy one, we need a sample from her as well."

"Anything we can do now?"

"No, just, you know, be ready. When we find out what's behind this, we may need it slain. Maybe in a hurry."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joseph B., somewhat more warmly this time, introduced the next speaker, XLH Renee V. on the subject, 'We are Soldiers in a Righteous War.'

Renee V. limped urgently to the center of the stage, turned and faced his audience, staring around with his uncovered eye for moment. He was a bulky man, with the look of high school football star who still worked out but ate a little more than he should.

"You all know the famous words of Edmund Burke, _'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.'_ Let me tell you something else Mr. Burke said, _'No one could make a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little.'_" He paused, dramatically, glared around.

"Robert and I do not see eye to eye on a lot of things, but on one thing we agree. This is not a game."

"But I am here to tell you, I scare demons all the time. True, I, Renee V. am not that scary. Perhaps Robert is right and Xander Harris isn't that scary, that _only_ the idea of The Slayer causes fear. That doesn't matter. The _fear_ is real. And I carry it with me in this eye patch and this shirt and this cane. When I go into a demon bar I bring that fear with me. I make it real. And when I leave the vamps and the demons aren't sitting back thinking philosophical thoughts about some vague idea of a distant enemy. They're thinking _'Faith is just around the corner.' _Who knows how many vampires who were thinking about going out on a little hunt that night decided to have another warm one at the bar instead? I'll never know. You'll never know. Perhaps it is a little thing. But it is better than nothing."

"There is only one true Faith. There is only one Buffy. I don't know how many Slayers there are, but they are not infinite, they are not everywhere. But every time I show up at a vampire bar, at a yak bile and gielworm distributor, at one of the Animovic clan's Chinese buffets, I bring The Slayer with me. I remind them that there is a greater power in the world, that they survive only as long as they do not draw attention to themselves. I remind them of their limitations. And in so doing, in a way, I _create_ those limitations.

"And so do each and every one of you. The Slayer is legendary. We are legion."

"There are those who think it is only about the money. It's not. The money, the tribute, if you will, only makes it _real._ If one demon sees another demon pay, that demon knows the power is real. That demon feels the touch of The Slayer. So it doesn't matter if XLH Robert Y. cares only about the money, as he claims. The effect is the same.

"We all have to make a living. How many of us in this world can truly say we make our living making the world a better place? We are lucky indeed, gentlemen…."

Giles stretched out his right leg, rubbing at his thigh where a cramp had threatened to form. The man had a point, he thought. The world may seem small on GoogleEarth, on the television screen as you leap continents at the speed of light, but get out and walk a little and one remembers the world is truly a huge place and Slayers can't be everywhere, can't even begin to cover the ground. A vampire in the average town who suddenly finds himself on the point of a slayer's stake can truly, however briefly, curse his luck. The question is, however, does this loony in an eye-patch extend the power of the slayer or dilute it?

Giles polished his glasses. The weekend wasn't going to be quite the simple, fun time he'd planned on. But wasn't that always the way?

Renee V. was finishing up,

"I wish to thank Harvey P. and those directly involved in the orphanages and safehouses. I encourage you all to contribute above and beyond the requirements. I say let us enjoy the lovely grounds, the food, one another's company for a weekend. But let us not forget our true purpose. Let us remember, that while we were never granted superpowers, we have been given the means to do good in the world. Xander Lavelle Harris was granted no superpowers, but when he found himself thrust into the dark world we all know exists, he answered the call and created a legend. It is our duty to use that legend as he would want it used.

"We can do no less. Thank you, gentlemen," he said and limped off to relatively enthusiastic applause.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, kiddo," Lorelai said, "How goes the spying. That meeting must be a lot more interesting than I thought it would be..."

"Err, well, actually that's why I'm calling," Rory said. "I never actually made it to the projection room. Jess was there and….

"Jess was here, at the Inn? Should we count the silver?"

"Mom! That's not funny."

"Yes it is."

"No, it isn't, but anyway, I suddenly had this urge to go to Hartford. So, I thought I should let you know. We're at the Musty Bookshelf now, but I think we'll see a movie, if that's okay."

"Yeah, sure, fine. But you might want to get back in time for the town meeting. I think it might be interesting."

"The town meeting?"

"Yes, well, Michel put up a sign inviting the guests to attend."

"Why did he do that?"

"Well, you know, Michel."

"You told him to."

"No. Well. Maybe. Just a little."

"Why would you do that?"

"Taylor annoyed me. But, here's the thing, some the guests have been asking me about it and I think maybe some of them are really going to go."

"Oh my. We'll definitely be back in time then."

"Good. I'll make popcorn."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joseph B. was grinning as he made the next introduction, Davis O. on "We Be, Therefore We Are."

XLH Davis O. bounded on to the stage, twirling his cane like a vaudeville dancer, his attitude and curly hair putting Giles in mind of Harpo Marx, though Davis O. was anything but silent.

"It's true," he said, "I see a lot of new faces. Welcome. But, more importantly, to me at least, I see a lot of old friends. And, old friends, I have a confession to make. I haven't seen a demon, let alone scared one, in over two years…

"Hey, I did my time. Two years, three months, eleven days, thirteen hours and forty-two minutes. F. Steph and me we had some times, good and bad, had some close calls. And I earned this shirt and eye patch and fuck anyone who says otherwise. But I quit the moment Steph told me she was pregnant. Conning demons is no profession for the father of young children. So I quit that.

"But I didn't quit Xander Lavelle Harris. Being Xander Lavelle Harris made me who I am. It taught me I had courage I never knew I had. I know I am not the only one here who, when faced with a life crisis asks himself, "What would Xander do?" and acts accordingly.

"And I didn't quit the Society. Because who else in the world would understand a word I just said? Robert, I swear, I'll never wear an eye patch in your territory. But Robert, being Xander is not just an illusion. The changes being Xander made to me and my life are real. And while I say bravo to Harvey's good works and Renee's noble fight, why should we stop there? I agree with Renee. It is all about the fear. Not just the demon's fear, it is about our fear. And conquering that fear.

"The more of us who can say "Boo," to things that go bump in the night, the better. In the end that is the only solution. Slayers can fight the battles, can hold the line, but in the end, only humans can rid the world of demons once and for all. This room is only a small beginning, perhaps none of us will live to see the day, but a start must be made somewhere.

"Ordinary, everyman, Xander Lavelle Harris has shown us the way. The answer is courage. The answer is not laying back and letting the Slayer save us. The truth is that in the end we must save the Slayer….."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Officially the next item on the Faiths' agenda was a round-robin switch-tables-every-ten-minutes get-to-know-you session, which quickly turned into, F. Charity noted, a bitch-about-my-Xander session. The storytellers soon reminded F. Charity why, on the whole, she didn't much like women. The stories told, on the other hand, reminded her why, on the whole, she didn't much like men, either.

She found herself being suddenly very grateful for the one she had.

She mostly kept silent and listened with half an ear as F. Alba and F. Anne weaved elaborate bullshit about the advantages of working with gay Xanders, discovering in the process that they were far from alone. F. Alba's tall tales about XLH Anthony B.'s derring-do kept her amused for awhile. But she soon found herself fighting the urge to go look at the kids again. Then said the hell with it and quit fighting. Maybe the little bastards would do something truly disgusting or annoying and she could get the whole stupid idea out of her system.

As she eased away from the tables, a movement in the corner caught her eye, she glanced over and found herself being carefully assessed by three teens whose clumsy attempts at surreptition amused her. After a beat the girl shook her head no, and drew a line on a piece of paper and their attention turned elsewhere.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"The only man among us," Joseph B. said, "to have the privilege of meeting the Man Himself, Edward G."

Giles glanced over at XLH Al J., who shrugged.

Ed G. was a tall man, thin, who walked slowly and talked slowly.

"It was an ordinary day at the Starbucks on Euclid Avenue in Cleveland Ohio. A bit cloudy with a hint of rain in the air. I was reading the Plain Dealer over a cappuccino when he came in. Of course, he was striking figure, the eye-patch, the scar, the bright shirt and the silver wolf-head walking stick… as we all know, anyone... well, almost anyone, can make an impression dressed that way. But it wasn't just the clothes, it was the man. One look and you could tell, this was a man who had seen the worst of the world and looked it in the eye…"

Giles heard XLH Al J. groan softly, saw him sink in his chair. Already in his mind's ear Giles could hear Andrew repeating this speech word for word in his most portentous tones…. And he could hear Willow doing the same, with a slightly different attitude… he could picture Faith, Buffy, and Dawn holding their ribs and gasping for breath through each recitation. For his own part, Giles was storing away choice phrases for judicious use at some appropriate moment in the future. He would be avenged ten-fold for every "G-man" and "Gilesy-Wilesy" he had endured over the years. But not now. Now it would be too much like piling on. Right now he almost felt sorry for the young man.

According to Ed G. Xander had borrowed the comics section, and they'd shared a laugh over "Get Fuzzy." It was clearly an often and lovingly told tale, almost touching in its simplicity. Giles wondered what would happen to Ed. G's psyche if he ever learned he had told Xander he'd got his own limp wrong.

"I cannot claim," Ed. G. said reasonably, "On the basis of a brief conversation in a coffee shop, to know the man's mind. But I have studied the man's life, tried my best to sift the legend from the reality. I think if Xander Lavelle Harris was here today, if he had heard the presentations, he would tell us that we were crazy, that we should leave the demons to the slayers, not to risk ourselves.

"I'm sure that's what he would say. I'd like to think he wouldn't really mean it. I'd like to think he'd recognize Robert's pragmatism, Renee's humanitarianism, Davis' idealism, and he'd tell us to remember that vampires and demons are the true enemy, and that, if we must do this, then we should at least do it together," Ed G. finished.

And he limped offstage to standing applause.

"So Al," Giles heard XLH Bill Rose ask, "What do you think the Man Himself would say?"

"He'd tell them to stop saying 'Lavelle' all the damn time. But that's just a guess, of course."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

During this break Giles left Xander to Willow's tender mercies and slipped up to his room to down some aspirin and make a quick call to get the council geeks started on their research into the XLHDS charities. When he came back there was a table and four chairs on the stage and a tall woman in black leathers and sword was talking with Joseph B. who was nodding mechanically.

F. Erin M. had an entirely appropriate rough and smoky voice, with a touch of the deep south in it. She also had easy manner that Giles found a little surprising, given the subject. He chided himself briefly for his own prejudice and listened.

"I know you'all never started out to be all boys' club, it just naturally worked out that way. And when you first started using 'Faith's we were essentially hired help. But that time's gone gentlemen. You can't do it without us. We are partners now. Don't you'all think this whole separate meeting thing is getting a bit silly?

"And gentlemen, it doesn't take a deep study on of the life of Xander Lavelle Harris to know that the Man Himself is not afraid of strong women. Surely if there's anything in the man's character you can emulate it's that. It ain't like we're asking you to attack a stavrox demon with a panga. Just to sit next to a woman, maybe even just your wife, when you talk business. It don't seem like so much to ask.

"On other thing I've noticed, Mr. Xander Lavelle Harris, who is not afraid of strong women, always seems to be surrounded by beautiful women who love him. I'll let you all draw your own conclusions from that. Thank you, gentlemen."

XLH Kevin G. who was clearly F. Erin M.'s Xander, took his turn and said, essentially, "Please let them in 'cause until you do my life sucks."

Harvey P. pointed out that while they all recognized the 'Faith's contributions, and that Faith herself had reformed, he had observed that the 'Faith's still tended to style themselves after her wilder days. He wasn't entirely sure that women who the night before had driven a 'cute' waiter into hiding, and who had, if rumor was true, had assaulted a stockboy at the local grocery store were really ready to sit at the big boy's table.

Joseph B. pointed out that it was still, for practical reasons, the Xanders that actually walked into bars and collected the pay-off, the Xanders who took the most risks while the Faith's stayed in the background, necessarily a distant menace. Besides, he said, what if Faith and Xander broke up? The XLHDS could continue, but the 'Faith's would have to be dropped, there would be problems if they were full members…

F. Erin drew a deep breath and stood to speak and Joseph looked at his watch and said he was sorry, they'd run out of time for this discussion which he was sure would continue in a less formal setting.

XLH Kevin G. winced and hung his head in weary resignation.

It was time for the lookalike contest.

"Oh yes you are," XLH Bill Rose said. "We all are. You too, Reggie."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They met, as planned, by the boathouse. The Faiths had finished early and were waiting as the Xanders came limping out to join them.

Xander's spirits sank. She was mad. She'd promised she wouldn't be. But she was. He could see the little stormclouds in her eyes. At least, thank god, it wasn't Buffy.

"And who's the Faithiest Faith who ever Faithed?" Dawn crowed, waving her gold-plated plaque over her head like a ring girl at a boxing match.

"How bad?" Xander whispered to Buffy, who replied,

"Seventh. And you?"

"Fifth again. But Ed said my limp was better this time."

"What's Will so happy about?" Buffy asked, then added, "Ohmigod, she didn't win, did she?"

"No. But she didn't finish last, and the guy who did is really, really mad."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"If you all will excuse me," Giles said, "I think I need to get a little air. Zoey, if I may borrow the keys to one of the Harleys?"

"You want me to give you a lift, Mr. Giles?"

"No thank you. It's been a long time, but one doesn't forget. I'll take it easy, I promise."

He spent a few minutes puttering along the country road, getting used to the controls again, trying to remember to ride on the wrong side of the road. Then he opened it up a bit and enjoyed the wind in his face, felt some of the day's tension clear. After about ten miles he u-turned and went back, spent a little time exploring the town of Stars Hollow, home of many lawn ornaments, the strangest of which was probably the elaborately carved wooden chuppah, though the collection of gnomes next door was noteworthy as well.

Tour completed, he parked in the town square and went into the old fashioned diner that Faith and Xander had said served genuine old-fashioned American food. Something that Giles, in his time in California had come to doubt actually existed. He sat in a corner table, opened the menu and prepared to enter the unknown.

"Try the chicken-fried steak," a voice said. "Anybody can make a decent cheeseburger if they want. But the true test of a diner is the chicken-fried steak." Giles looked up. The man was of Mexican heritage, in his forties, well-built if a bit thick in the jowls. He looked vaguely familiar, obviously one of the Xanders, though he had left off the eye patch and the cane, and the shirt was relatively restrained.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Be my guest," Giles nodded and the man sat, glanced back at the young Korean waitress who came over, took their order for two chicken-fried steaks and ice tea.

"I'm Jaime," the man said, Giles tried to remember his pseudonym and, briefly, failed, but the man continued without waiting, he said, "Of course, the problem is, if a chicken fried steak is bad, it's really bad. So tell me, Mr. Giles, what happens now?"

**-30-**


	8. Chapter Eight: Accomodation

**Chapter Eight: Accomodation**

**A/N:** For Disclaimers, warnings see Chapt. 1

**A Schism in Stars Hollow**

**A Father Goose Digression**

**Chapter Eight: Accomodation**

"I beg your pardon?" Giles said.

"Rupert Giles," the man who'd introduced himself as Jaime said, "Buffy's Watcher and head of the New Watchers Council. The redhead in drag must be Willow Rosenburg. That must have been Harris himself sitting with you. He doesn't quite radiate nobility and heroism to the extent ol' Ed would have you believe, but if you're looking you can see the difference."

"And you were looking?"

"I've been expecting this for two or three years now. Not so much that you yourself would come, or Harris, but someone from the Council. But you were curious, weren't you? Who else is here? I haven't had a chance to check out the girls yet, I assume Faith if Harris is here. If the Red Witch came then…. Buffy?"

Giles nodded.

"The whole Scooby Gang. I'll be damned. Obviously you don't need that kind of firepower so I'm guessing they came mostly to look at the freaks and give Harris a hard time?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite that …"

"Crudely. No, probably not, but that would just be you being polite. Listen, no offense taken, not on my part anyway."

"Who else knows?"

"I don't know. I didn't tell anyone, and I'm not really in the inner circle, so they wouldn't have told me." Jaime rubbed his chin a moment, thinking, "Joe B., probably, though he may have been to busy politicking to notice. I assume Ms. Rosenburg magicked your invites, so the bean counters might not have picked up on it. We still have a little of the _ask me no questions I'll tell you no lies_ mentality, and always some new faces… So, possibly no one else. Interesting isn't it, how people can be so arrogant and humble at the same time? They can talk about Harris like they know him intimately, and at the same time, it never occurs to them that he would even notice them, let alone be the guy in the seat behind them. Just like you guys never noticed us before cause you just couldn't believe anybody would be this stupid, huh?"

"What makes you different?"

The waitress brought their tea, said the steaks would be right out. Jaime thanked her.

"I came to this a little differently than most of the others. You might remember, Harvey acknowledged me, one of the 'guys they located'? I have to say it was the other way around, but that's neither here nor there."

Giles nodded, noncommittally.

"My parents were migrant farm workers," Jaime continued. "You live like that, you learn what's what. So I knew all about vamps and demons from an early age. The other thing I knew was that by the age of fifteen I had picked all the damn grapes and whathaveyou I ever wanted to. To make a long story short, I went into small time crime. Was one of a bunch of kids, doing burglaries, had a regular Fagin and everything… Then got too big for that… Well, I'd got to know some old grifters. Didn't meet any old armed robbers though, figured there was a lesson in that. I became what I guess you'd call a con man, a little of this, a little of that. I ain't that proud of it, but I ain't that ashamed, neither. I never took no little old ladies life savings. And most of those growers were a lot worse bastards than me anyday. Well, you live like that, sooner or later, shit happens." Jaime reached up, tapped himself in the left eye which Giles belatedly realized was glass.

"Pretty good, this one, ain't it? Can't hardly tell. I got a collection. I got one that glows red, can't wear it too long cause it gets hot, but it's damn effective, flip the ol' eyepatch up and give'em the redeye and even most demons and vamp's take a step back. I got one that's just bright green, with a tiny little black dot. I like to wear it playin' poker. I got one that's a moving spiral, like the hypnotist's use. Works too…."

"Anyway, pretty much the same thing happened to me that happened to Peckham. I was in this bar, kind of a neutral territory place. Vamps and demons came there to hire people to do daylight stuff, public stuff for them. Guys came there to hire demons and vamps for strongarm stuff... shit like that.

"This was before I got my eye collection so I was wearing a patch, and carrying a cane cause the same bastards that did my eye did my knee at the same time. So this one vamp freaks out when he sees me and splits. So I ask around, get the history on Sunnydale and Mr. Harris. So, I already know from experience that demons ain't that bright. Plus I got another connection to that world… So I already had my act going when I heard about these guys. I only joined the Society outta self-defense, so I could keep track of what they were up to."

The waitress came with the chicken-fried steaks.

"Thanks, hon," Jaime said. "There now, can't you just feel your arteries hardenin'? Gravy's on the side too. Touch of class, huh?"

Giles looked down at his fried and breaded cutlet, mashed potatoes and peas. With a steaming gravy boat, as Jaime noted, on the side.

"This is Wiener Schnitzel. Classic American food is Wiener Schnitzel with gravy?"

"Could be," Jaime said. "It is all about the gravy. And the meat's just there to hold the breading together."

"And people mock British cookery."

"Not me," Jaime answered, "I love a good vindaloo."

Giles glanced at him, saw the twinkle in Jaime's good eye and laughed.

"Okay, Jaime," Giles said. "You've found me. Asserted your independence. Put on the charm. What do you want?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Try to get one with her leaning over," Dustin said.

_Boys,_ Vanessa thought. This is a _superhero_ we're talking about. Faith the Dragonslayer. Faith, slayer of vampires, killer of demons, Faith who'd overcome her dark past to become a world-travelling scourge of evil. And all they want is a good view of her tits.

Jules included, though he tried to hide it. She couldn't decide whether it was worse to be an out and out disgusting perv like Dustin, or a sneak like Jules. It was kinda cute, though, she thought, the way Jules blushed when she caught him staring down her shirt.

In deference to many of the members' criminal pasts, photography was generally discouraged at XLHDS meetings. Oh, a few corner snapshots with friends were fine, but taking pictures of main events was banned, so the three investigators had had to be discreet. And inventive, during the lookalike contest they'd sat at a table in the back and concealed the camera in a potato chip sack. Now with the buffet lunch in full swing they'd put the camera in Jules' back pack and were taking turns walking by Faith's table and taking a couple shots while pretending to dig in the pack for something, or tying a shoe.

Vanessa was struggling with a niggling doubt. It had to be her, right? Who could look more like Faith than Faith? It was just that…. she had expected Faith to stand out more, somehow.

There _was_ something different about her. She did seem more… confident than the average 'Faith.' And the way from time to time she would look around and kind of shake her head and grin, whisper something to one of her companions. It was liked she was… amused. That would be right, Vanessa thought, the real Faith would certainly find the wannabees funny.

And looking at Faith's lunch companions… the guy sitting on her right, he didn't exactly jump out at her but he did seem rugged enough to be the real Harris. And he had that same kind of confident, relaxed quality. And Faith did seem familiar with him, leaning her head on his shoulder one time, poking him playfully another. Still if Vanessa had had to guess she would have said the grumpy looking woman on the man's other side was his girlfriend, just something in the body language...

And the 'Xander' in the pale blue shirt sitting on Faith's left… well, _gay. _

Of course, that would be funny. Her parents would freak. They pretended to be all open-minded and stuff, but she knew her father would get all funny about wearing the eye patch if it turned out Harris was gay. And as for Faith, Vanessa knew full well as a result of enduring a number of her mother's rants that there was certain faction among the 'Faith's' who insisted Faith was lesbian, that Harris was just her Watcher.

"Yeah, well," her father would say, "we know what that's all about, don't we?"

Vanessa thought the whole thing was stupid. 'She kills monsters with a sword,' she wanted to say, 'She rides a badass bike and saves the world. She's cool. Who cares who she sleeps with?'

Lunch was breaking up then, the rugged guy and the grouchy woman went off one way, Faith went off with the blonde 'Faith' whose brunette wig kept slipping, the redheaded woman dressed like a Xander and … her girlfriend, judging by the handholding. Okay, okay, _whatever,_ Vanessa thought. I just want to see if Faith will let me hold her sword and tell me what it's like to dust a vamp for real.

_I just want to ask her if its still possible I might be a potential, I'm just fourteen, there's time yet… _

The three investigators followed the foursome outside and saw them make a beeline for the potting shed and disappear inside.

That's weird, Vanessa thought. "Anyone got cigarettes?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?" Dustin said.

"That gives us a reason to be out by the shed there, if they catch us they'll think we were just sneakin' a smoke."

"Yeah," Dustin agreed, "And we can maybe just by accident look in the window. Maybe they'll all be making out or something…. Ouch! Don't hit me. I ain't letting you have a cigarette if you hit me."

"Oh shut up, big baby. And come on." With elaborate nonchalance the three walked across the lawn, circled the shed and came up behind it, sat down with their backs to the wall and, Vanessa at least, listened hard, her ear pressed back against the thin wall., She heard a soft, almost babyish voice say,

"Oh no, Kaitlyn, you did fine, this is just… unusual. Her soul…it's not sick. It's divided. I think she sold it. On the installment plan."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai had it down to a science… well, actually it was a trick she'd picked up from Rory in her Dean avoidance phase… but she'd worked out her own details. She crossed the square and paused on the sidewalk right in front of the bench with the cracked third slat in the backrest. If she turned then and held up her wrist like she was looking at her watch she could peer into Luke's and see if Nicole was there. If she was, then Lorelai could shake her head as if she just didn't have time for coffee and she could turn back. And if she wasn't, well, then Luke's would be Luke's again despite the stupid new Nicole-inspired menus and she could go in.

There was, Lorelai was pleased to observe, a notable absence of impeccably dressed female lawyers who were all wrong for Luke in the diner. Not that it was any of her business except that of course it was because Luke was her friend, and of course it was her business if her friend was making a terrible mistake. And it was her business as … as a businessperson. Star's Hollow was a big part of the Independence Inn's appeal and Luke's was a big part of Stars Hollow, and if there was any chance this Nicole person was going to affect Luke's than actually it was Lorelai's duty too….

"She's not there, hon," Miss Patty said behind her. Lorelai spun around.

"What? Who's not where?"

"Oh, hon," Miss Patty smiled, "if you are going to stand out here pretending you're looking at your watch, you should at least wear a watch."

"Oh."

"Now come on, let's go remind Luke he has other options, and then I want you to tell me all about this convention of yours."

"What other options?"

"You're fooling nobody but yourself, dear," Miss Patty said, taking her arm and pulling her across the street into the diner.

Luke poured the coffee and set danishes before each of them. She felt a little better.

"How's your convention?" he asked.

"Weird," she answered. "I can't tell if they're just harmless Renfaire types or a real drink-the-koolaid cult. And these women keep looking at me…"

"Which women?" Miss Patty interrupted, "A redhead?"

"Yes, one of them, how did you know?"

"A little bird told me."

"Did Taylor send Kirk to spy on us again? I wouldn't mind except he scares the customers….except this time I think the customers might scare him. Or maybe slice him up and sink him in the lake. Anyway, they keep looking at me like I'm growing horns or something. I'm not, am I?"

"I don't know," Luke said, "Hold your hair back and I'll check."

"Luke!"

He grinned and retreated back behind the counter.

"That's not funny," Lorelai continued, "Is it Patty. Miss Patty, what are you doing…. I am not growing horns!"

"No, of course not, dear. No one said you were."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Giles dipped his toothbrush in his personal salt and baking soda mixture, and began brushing thoughtfully, running his mind back over the conversation with Jaime.

"I want three things," Jaime had said. "First, I'd be honored to meet the Scoobies. Secondly, I'd appreciate some warning as to what you plan to do about the Society. But most importantly, I want to you slay some vampires." He'd handed Giles manila envelope that contained a meticulously organized dossier on a family run winery in Napa valley. A family, it turned out as Giles' read, of vampires.

"In return for which I tell you every thing I know about the Society, and do whatever I can to help you…. Whatever you decide to do about it."

"You know," Giles had said, "This is all very nice, but slaying vampires is what we do. If you know we exist, we're not hard to find. We're in the yellow pages. All you had to do was call and give us the address."

Jaime had reached out and pointed to a page in the dossier.

"Ah," Giles had said. "Slay _some,_ but not _all_ the vampires. Your sister?"

"They took her when she was seventeen. They'd come through the camp like feudal lords, picking and choosing. They took her, used her, turned her. Now she works for them. She runs that place."

"We can't just let her loose."

"I know. I was thinking, some sort of house arrest. They…. trust me. They've had me handle some of their daylight business. I've had papers drawn up. A couple signatures, which frankly I can fake if necessary, and the winery is yours. Might not stand up if somebody sued… but nobody's gonna sue. The winery would pay for her keep, pigs blood, guards…She could earn her room and board running the winery. The figures are in there. They make good money. They make good wine, for that matter. … I could supervise if you let me, otherwise you could hire someone…. Like Harvey or Renee V., one of the decent ones. Or of course anyone you want… I know, I should have brought this to you years ago…but I was afraid that once you knew…. That would be that. You'd just kill them all. Her included."

"We may still."

"I know. But when I realized who you were…I knew this was my best chance. If I call the number in the yellow pages, that doesn't mean I get to speak to Rupert Giles, does it?"

"Not usually, no. I will discuss this with the others. I make no promises."

"That's all I can ask for. Just… she never had a chance."

"I understand," Giles had said. "I wish that made a difference. But it doesn't really. Satisfying as it sometimes is, we don't slay vampires as punishment. Just as prevention. They were all victims once. Tell me about Walt Peckham."

"What about him?"

"How did he die?"

"The demons were warned, Walt was told the time had changed, he went in a half hour early."

"Why?"

"He was crazy. Started to believe his own bullshit. He was getting people killed, he wanted to go out in a blaze glory, taking everybody else with him. He was stopped."

"Do you know who?"

"Yes. Who do you think it was?"

"Joseph B.?"

"Of course."

"And you?"

"No. I was one of those who'd figured it was over as soon as Harris hit Cleveland, I'd already moved on. But to be honest, I wouldn't have lifted a finger to prevent it. Dude was dangerous. To himself and others. The way they did it, he still died a bit of legend, no one actually got their fingers dirty. It could have been worse."

Giles washed his brush off, rinsed his mouth, gave his face a quick wipe with a cloth and went out into his room proper where the others were gathering for the pre-afternoon session meeting.

"We all here?" he asked, looking around.

"Except Xander and Faith," Willow answered.

"They went off somewhere," Zoey said, "Xander told me to tell you they have their cells if you need them, but they were gonna skip the afternoon session. He said to tell you emergency slayer maintenance."

"Oh god," Dawn said, "she wasn't upset I won that stupid contest, was she? I wouldn't have made such a big deal if I'd thought it really bothered her…"

"I'm sure that wasn't it, Dawnie," Buffy said.

"Well, whatever," Willow said, "I'm sure Xan'll take care of it. We have another problem. I think the lady that runs the Inn here is in real trouble. And maybe not just her. We need to find that girl, and we need to talk to the local witch again. I thought Kait and I would go to the this town meeting, maybe a couple of you could come along?"

"Of course."

They agreed to meet again at five, Giles decided to wait until Xander was there to discuss his meeting with Jaime with the group, but he tapped Dawn's shoulder, asked her to stay a moment, gave her the dossier to read.

It worried him a little how much he was starting to rely on the young woman, as a sounding board, as the Watcher he sent to handle troubling situations. He wondered if it was fair, grooming her as he was to take over for him someday. But she'd never shown any real desire for a life outside the council and certainly living in Rome with Buffy she had the opportunity to escape if she wanted to.

Also, every once in a while on a dark three a.m. he worried if this wasn't some subtle plan of the monks', building in Dawn the facility for languages, the desire for responsibility, the beyond her years maturity that made her a natural for advancement in the council….. Over breakfast he would dismiss the wee hours musings as paranoia. Dismiss, but not quite forget.

She looked up from the dossier and said, reading his mind, "Bit of a gothic novel, isn't it? 'The Oenologist in the Basement. _She didn't drink... wine.'_ I suppose it could work, though, if she's more Harmony than Angelus."

"Yes," Giles said, "I'm sure it could work. But..."

Dawn picked up the thought. "It's kind of a slippery slope, isn't it?"

Giles nodded. "At first glance, it makes perfect sense. We could certainly use the money. But in the long run, I don't know…"

"You know, the ironic thing about all this," Dawn said. "Faith told me once, that back when she and Xander first got together one of the first things he did was make her promise to stop holding up demon bars for money. Said he wanted to be sure he never owed Evil anything. This whole Xander Harris society is based on doing something Xander himself would never do."

"And yet it would be a shame to close down the charities…."

"Yeah. Exactly. What're we gonna do?"

"I don't know, Dawn. Listen to the debate this afternoon. Sleep on it. Ask ourselves, _what would Xander do?_. And then ask Xander and see if he agrees."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Gilmore girls were unhappy. They'd come downtown at five-thirty to get coffee and burgers in fortification for Taylor's six o'clock town meeting.

At first they had been amused, thinking of Taylor's inevitable apoplexy, by the line of motorcycles in front of Doose's and Lukes. Lorelai had disturbed her daughter by identifying the makes and models of each of the bikes.

"What, do you have secret stash of _Cycle World_ under your bed?"

"What? I like motorcycles. The only reason we don't have one is the whole I'd be dead thing, which would kind of take the fun out of it."

They stopped being amused when they went into Luke's and found that it had been taken over by women in black leather, who had pushed tables together and seemed to be having some sort of union meeting, with fries. That was bad enough, but they overflowed the tables and lined the counter as well and Lorelai and Rory found themselves stuck in a corner table and waited on by a harried Lane, who explained hurriedly that Luke and Jess were afraid to come out from behind the counter.

"Wusses," Lane said, "Like I'm not getting my ass pinched here too."

"I'm beginning to see Taylor's point of view on this," Rory said, "that damn Gilmore woman needs to be more selective in her clientele."

And then another group came in, the fact that three of them were men seemed to stop the union meeting for a moment until the two men in matching blue shirts spoke,

"Carry on, ladies," one said, "we're on your side entirely," the other completed and there was a bit of laughter and the Norma Rae of the scene picked up where she left off,

"How dare they claim they're the ones taking all the risks….."

And then one of the women in the new group tripped and got her extensively beringed hand caught in Rory's hair. After much effusive apology they left, leaving Rory rubbing the side of her head checking for a bald spot and Lorelai's face scrunched up in suspicion.

"That same thing happened to me earlier today," she said. "either that woman is _really_ clumsy or there's something going on here."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. But I bet my mother's behind it."

"Why? What would Grandma want with some our hair?"

"I don't know. Voodoo dolls?"

"You're paranoid. So she hired a group people to go to this convention and fall into us and steal our hair? Or you think she hired the whole convention just to fool us into… letting someone bump into us? That's crazy."

"Well, maybe, but answer me this, missy. Who else could it be?"

"Yes, but if Grandma wanted our hair all she would have to do is drug us at Friday night dinner and when our faces flopped in the salmon mousse she could take it then."

"Now who's paranoid?" Lorelai said.

**-30-**


	9. Chapter Nine: Events

**Chapter Nine: Events**

**A/N**: For Disclaimers, warnings see Chapt. 1

**A Schism in Stars Hollow**

**A Father Goose Digression**

**Chapter Nine: Events**

The building that apparently served as the town hall filled rather quickly just after six. Willow, Kaitlyn, Andrew and Timothy discreetly took seats in the back row and sat quietly as a rather plump, fussy man with a salt-n-pepper beard began to speak on the subject of the historic charm of small town America… he began by reminiscing about the pleasant clop-clop sound of horse's hooves on cobblestones… after awhile he moved on to the advent of motorized transportation…

"You know," Willow said quietly, "the last time I was at a meeting like this they tied me to a pole and set me on fire."

"So," Andrew said, "not nearly as boring as this meeting then?"

"Yes," Timothy echoed, "do you suppose if we tied that man to a pole and set him on fire he'd stop talking?"

"I doubt it," Willow said, "it never worked on Andrew."

"What did you expect me to do, sit there and burn quietly?"

"No, we expected you to change the subject to, oh, I don't know, possibly, _'Help! I'm on fire!' _not to go on blathering about how, flames or no flames Luke could kick Aeryn's ass…"

"Which is bull," Kaitlyn chimed in, "Aeryn would put an energy pulse in that punk's face before he even shook the batteries in his flashlight…."

"Lightsaber," Andrew insisted, "it's called a lightsaber…."

_"May I help you….? _Did you wish to address the meeting?"

Slowly Willow became aware that the room's attention had shifted to the back row, she felt her cheeks grow hot, and, she assumed, bright red. She had thought that by now she as past this, but …. No. She could, with just a wave her hand (and a little bit of concentration, three newt's eyes and half-stick of cinnamon, both of which she just happened to have handy) turn all of these people into toads … but that didn't matter. She had been caught by a roomful of strangers, not even in the middle, really, just on the periphery of a discussion involving lightsabers and she suddenly regressed into total stammering nerd mode. And she hadn't even been that kind of nerd.

"Errr, no, thank you, sorry," she croaked out. "Carry on."

Willow pouted. Mastering the magic was still fun but the whole achieving total self-control and enlightenment thing was turning out to be really a rather tedious process. And _hard. _Kaitlyn patted her hand sympathetically.

"Oh, shut up," Willow whispered.

"Thank you," the fussy man smugged, "now where was I…?"

"You were about to shut up and adjourn the meeting, Taylor," someone suggested.

"No, no, I don't think that was it," Taylor said, then went on, "Oh, yes, toll roads….

The meeting erupted into shouting, mostly on the theme of 'Get to the point, Taylor,' and at last he held up his hands for silence and the various voices sputtered and slowly went quiet.

"Okay, okay, fine," Taylor said, "I was merely trying to demonstrate that there is historical precedent…."

"Taylor….

"And that certain behaviors and manners of dress and transportation are incompatible with the ambiance that is the very essence of Stars Hollow, a way of life we are entitled to defend and maintain. Lorelai, since it is your business that is bringing in these uncouth, underdressed and," he paused to glance at the back row, "disruptive elements, may I ask, what do you plan to do about it?"

The tall brunette stood, said,

"Well, Taylor, Rory and I have been talking about it and we've decided you're absolutely right…."

"You have?" Taylor blurted, then shifted gears, "I mean, of course you have and…

"And we've come up with a plan. But we may need your help as Town Selectman… "

"Of course, anything I can do to help…"

"We decided that whenever someone makes a reservation at the Inn we'll take down their information. And then we will simply pass the names on to you to do a thorough background check, since as a private business we simply don't have the resources…

"Or the authority," Rory added.

"Or the authority to do a proper check."

"Ye-es, well, I suppose…." Taylor started.

"But then we thought," Lorelai interrupted, "What if they came anyway?"

"The Independence Inn _is_ a powerful attraction," Rory said.

"How could we possibly stop them?"

"Roadblocks!" Rory said. "Only local traffic allowed to pass. You could issue ID's."

"And have a list of approved visitors. But then we thought, is that enough? What can we do to have real control? Real power? And what is the key to real power?"

"The Allmighty Dollar!"

"Yes," Lorelai said, "Money. What could we do to stop these terrible people from coming into Stars Hollow and buying all the doughnuts in Luke's…"

"All the Ding-Dongs in Doose's," Rory added. "We issue our own currency. We could call it the Doozy."

"One doozy to the dollar. All Stars Hollow businesses would only accept doozies, only approved people allowed to exchange dollars for doozies. Instead of Dollar Day sales we'd have Doozy Day sales."

"People would say, 'I'd buy that for a doozy.'"

"But still," Lorelai continued, "we asked ourselves, is it enough? Do we really have control?"

"No! What about the Federal government, the state, they might get all fussy about the 'public highways' and currency laws and that silly constitution thing …" Rory trailed off.

"So, there's only one thing to do…."

"Declare independence!"

"The People's Republic of Stars Hollow," Lorelai announced.

"The Independent Republic of Stars Hollow!" Rory countered.

"Splitter!" Lorelai accused.

"We hold our own elections, All hail Taylor Doose, Town-Selectman-for-Life!"

"Make our own laws. We can ban motorcycles completely!" Lorelai exclaimed.

"Four wheels good!" Rory said.

"Two wheels bad!" Lorelai said, then they chanted together, "Four wheels good, two wheels bad, four wheels good, two wheels bad, four wheels good, two wheels bad…." until Taylor managed to gavel them into silence.

"Yes, well, I don't think we need to go quite that far…" Taylor paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, "still….."

Then Miss Patty, who'd been sitting patiently in her usual podium-side seat burst out with, "Oh, for god's sake, Taylor, they'll all be gone tomorrow," and the meeting broke up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The three investigators waited by the boathouse watching as Faith's boat slowly came toward them. She was with two other 'Faith's,' one a brunette with a short layer cut who was rowing, and the blonde with the bad wig who had apparently given up on the wig, who was lounging in the stern. As they came in to the dock Vanessa ran forward to take the painter and tie up the bow while the blonde secured the rear.

"Thanks," Faith said.

"Ma'am," Vanessa said, "could we talk to you a minute. In private?"

Faith stared at her a moment, then shrugged, said "Sure." She turned back to her companions, said, "You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up."

Her heart beating wildly Vanessa walked around behind the boathouse with Faith at her side and Jules and Dustin stumbling after.

"You're really her, aren't you?" she blurted as soon as they were alone.

"Really who?" Faith asked, then winced and slapped herself on the forehead, then said kindly,

"Oh, honey, no, I'm not. Whatever made you think that?"

"You won the contest…"

"Oh, that. Well, the thing is, you know the online game…"

"Yeah?"

"I think, for some reason, I sort of look like the Faith avatar, but really, I'm not her. Besides, if the real Faith were here don't you think there'd have been some sort announcement?"

"But we heard them talking. Xander and Mr. Giles. They were…. investigating. Undercover. Look, please, we won't tell anyone…."

"Oh, honey, someone must have been playing a joke on you…"

"No!" Vanessa half-shouted, then calmed herself. "No. They didn't know we were there. They were just talking. Mr. Giles was telling Xander not to feel guilty about some people dying when he came back to Cleveland. It wasn't a joke."

"Okay, take it easy. You're sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Well, that would be … interesting, wouldn't it?"

"Please. We wouldn't tell, right guys?"

"Right, yes, " Dustin and Jules eagerly agreed.

"I mean, if you're her…I just want…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Vanessa."

"…Vanessa, I'm not her. I'm D… Alba. I'm not sure how I can prove I'm not her…."

"I could beat her up for you," the blonde said, appearing around the corner with the other 'Faith' behind her. "Sorry, we're nosy. So, you really think Xander and Giles are here?"

Vanessa nodded.

"Anybody else?"

"Well, I … we figured, if Xander was here Faith would be too. I think maybe Giles' said something about Willow, but he didn't say that she was here or anything, just that he was going to talk to her. But I guess she could be… I don't know, the whole Scooby gang here… I mean, that would be cool," Vanessa said. "But, wow, I guess. I mean I never would have believed that Xander was here if I hadn't heard them…" She looked sadly at Alba, "You're really not her, are you?"

"No. Sorry."

"That's okay. I just…. I just really want to meet her, you know? Just to ask her what it's like, to be strong like that. To fight a dragon."

"Yeah," Alba said. "That must have been something. Look, Vanessa, I still think someone was either playing a cruel joke, or maybe just really getting into their role-playing…. I mean, there's some guys here I think sometimes forget that they _aren't _him, you know? But we'll check around and if we find anything out, we'll let you know, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"So, Vanessa," the blonde said, "I'm Anne, by the way, this is Zoey…"

"Hi."

"So, when you said the whole Scooby gang, you mean you think Buffy might be here too?"

"I don't know. I didn't even think. I mean, I guess, I just thought she's all retired and stuff and never leaves Rome."

"Yeah," Alba said, "that's what they say." She lowered her voice, stage-whispered, "Between you and me, I heard she got fat. All that rich Italian food and the laying around, she just blew up like a balloon," Alba puffed out her cheeks and mimed a big belly and an ample derriere, then grinned. "We'll see you around, Vanessa. Be good."

Disappointment weighing on her like a lead suit Vanessa sank to the grass and leaned back against the boathouse and watched the three women walk away. She could hear the blonde grumbling about something and the other two laughing, then the blonde, Anne, reached out and apparently pinched Alba on the bicep hard enough to make her yelp and reach out to retaliate, missing as the blonde jumped quickly away, then turned and ran with Alba chasing after her, yelling something about cheating and the third women jogged after them, shaking her head.

They didn't believe me, Vanessa thought. They wouldn't be goofing around like that if they did. They think I'm just a dumb kid. But I know what I heard. She's here, and I'm going to find her.

"Hey, you guys," she said to her minions, "let's go. I've got an idea."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Without speaking the Red Witch and her companions began helping her fold and stack the chairs, leaving out five in a circle near the podium. That finished, the Red Witch reminded her to call her Willow, and her friend Kaitlyn. She introduced her to Timothy and Andrew, shaking the latter's hand Miss Patty could sense that he too had some magic in him, over-shadowed by the witches, but there all the same.

"It all centers on the Gilmores, doesn't it?" Willow said as they all took their seats, "Lorelai and… it's Rory, yes?"

"Yes," Miss Patty nodded, smiled, "Which is short for 'Lorelai.'"

"Really?" Willow said, surprised, "that's … interesting."

"Is there… is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so… but I'm not quite sure what yet. Maybe you should just tell us the story, from the beginning."

Miss Patty took a deep breath. She was, by natural inclination, a storyteller, and she'd been waiting a long time to tell this one to someone who might understand.

She resisted the impulse to add storm clouds and a bit of portentous thunder, but it had been simply a clear autumn day, the leaves in full glory, a bit of chill in the air. She had not been long in Stars Hollow herself at the time, the dance studio was new, still a bit shaky financially and she was spending a great deal of time there, even when classes weren't scheduled, working on choreography and thinking of ways to expand her clientele. She was still new to the magic then, as well, and when she took a break from the dancing she would often spend the time reading books on the occult.

Which was the long way of explaining how she happened to be there in the square that day when the Hartford bus arrived and disgorged a frightened young girl holding tight to a baby as if she thought the wind itself was going to try and take it away from her.

"I wish I could say I sensed the evil immediately," Miss Patty said, "but I didn't notice anything unusual at the time. I could see the girl was frightened, even terrified, but you didn't need any magic powers to see that."

She had watched her walk around in quick circles like a mouse that feels the hawk's presence but doesn't know which way to run. Miss Patty had called out to her, invited her into the studio to warm up a little. The girl had regarded her with suspicion for a moment, then gave in and came inside.

"I felt it then," Miss Patty said. "I had charms in place in the studio, of course. Blessings and wards and what have you. To be honest I'd done them more, I don't know, out of curiosity and just to feel…. more witchy, I guess, than because I felt any real need for defenses."

Kaitlyn nodded in understanding.

"But they were in place and when the girl, it was Lorelai of course, came inside I felt something come up against the wards and fall back."

At first Miss Patty had been a bit suspicious of the girl, but she seemed oblivious, even a little relieved. Miss Patty had served cocoa in the tiny room she called her office and restrained her urge to interrogate. After cocoa the girl, with shy defiance, adjusted her clothes and fed the baby."

"Not that I cared," Miss Patty said, "but I think she would have done the same if the local clergy were all gathered in the room and dared them to make a comment. That's when the car came."

It was a dark blue Mercedes with smoked windows and Miss Patty saw it pass by on the street, visible through the open studio door, but even out of sight she could feel it circling the square. Lorelai clearly felt it is as well, Miss Patty had seen the fear return, saw the pleading in her eyes and had gone to shut the door.

The knocking came not long after, Miss Patty had answered, cracked the door open just enough to speak to the woman waiting there.

"It was Emily Gilmore, though of course I didn't know it at the time. She asked if I had seen a girl matching Lorelai's description. I denied it. She didn't believe me, but I could see she wasn't entirely certain I was lying, either. I could feel the evil clearly by then, feel it in Emily, but also I could feel that she wasn't the source, the source was still back in that blue car."

Emily had looked back, as if receiving silent instructions, then tried to force her way in and had been thrown back as if by an electrical shock, very much to her surprise.

"And mine, a little," Miss Patty admitted.

"You can't keep her in there forever," Emily had said after Miss Patty had closed the door.

Miss Patty had asked the girl, Lorelai, what was going on but she'd insisted that she didn't understand it herself, only that she knew she had to keep her baby safe, hidden away from something terrible, some evil that resided in her mother's house, possibly in her mother… and Miss Patty had known she was right, she had felt it herself.

She stood and went into the office and retrieved an old over-sized leather bound book and brought it back, opened it and handed it to Willow.

"I knew it was _evil_, but I had no idea what, or how to fight it directly. And Lorelai insisted it was after the baby, not her. I spent half the night reading and that's what I came up with. Instead of fighting the evil…."

"You blessed the child. Makes sense. This is pattern magic, you danced this all by yourself? In one night?"

"Yes. Every step. Of course I was a little more svelte in those days, but let me tell you, by the time dawn came around I thought my legs were just going to dissolve into pools of jello. But it worked. There was no flash of white light or anything which, you know, might have been a little more satisfying. But I knew, I could feel the thing in the car's rage, could feel it leave. Could feel the peace radiating from the sleeping child and spreading out into the night.

"Wait," Willow looked up from the book, "this has to be renewed every year, do you….?"

"Oh no, not me," Miss Patty smiled, "This is a dance studio after all. Annual recital, dark ritual, same thing really."

"Ah," Willow said, "clever.

"Oh my," Kaitlyn said, reading over Willow's shoulder, "this girl is going to have quite the life. Men will love her, honors and riches will be bestowed upon her…"

"You think I overdid it?" Miss Patty asked.

"Maybe just a little," Willow said with a smile.

"Is that the problem? Too much of a good thing?"

"No. It might be if you ever let it drop and she has to cope with the world without her charm. But that's not why we're here. You don't see auras, then?"

"No. This was kind of my big spell. I was never able to do much else after that. I even have to do the dishes by hand. I can feel your power, and hers, but I don't see auras, no."

"Well, Rory's aura is just fine, in fact if you're not careful you could totally bliss out on it. But her mother's… there's trouble there."

"Oh no, I never thought…. I just assumed that the child's blessing would protect her mother as well…."

"I'm sure it did… but now that she's growing older, reaching that age where she needs to break away a little … she must be graduating high school…."

"This year, yes, next year, college…."

"The more she moves away, emotionally as well as physically, the more vulnerable her mother will be. But it's not just that. I got the distinct impression that whatever is affecting Lorelai … she invited it in. Made some sort of deal. Does that make sense to you?"

"Oh no," Miss Patty said. "Yes, I'm afraid it does. This is my fault, I should have told her that Rory's future was secure, she didn't need to… although to be honest I'm not sure she'd believe me. We've never talked about that night. She fell asleep while I was still researching. In the morning I took her out to Mia at the Inn and she gave her the job and a place to live. I'd look in on them from time to time but we've never talked about magic ... I should have… "

She felt Willow hand rest gently on her arm, felt herself relax a little.

"Well, before we panic, it may not be that serious. Andrew, if you would?"

She watched the young man open a back pack and withdraw…

"A crystal ball?" Miss Patty asked. "Seriously?"

"Sure," Kaitlyn answered. "A bowl of water works too but this is more fun. Okay, we have a lock of Lorelai's hair, a lock of Rory's and Miss Patty, if I may …"

Miss Patty felt a sudden twinge of worry, things were moving just a little fast here.

"It's a little late not to trust us," Kaitlyn continued, "if we wanted we could just take it, you know that, right? But if I won't if you say not to. But the more influence we add the clearer the picture."

After a moment Miss Patty nodded and Kaitlyn held out her hand and Miss Patty goggled as one of the many rings on Kaitlyn's fingers reached out and took a snip of her hair. Kaitlyn then mixed the three women's hair in a pestle, added a little grainy gray substance, dribbled a bit of clear liquid, then set the mixture on fire with a snap of her fingers, and blew the smoke over the crystal ball Andrew held out in the center of the circle.

At first there was just smoke, then slowly the images began to form and take shape, gain clarity, then events began to unfold, flitting from moment to moment like time lapse photography….. moving faster and faster until Miss patty cried out,

"Enough, please," and Kaitlyn snapped her fingers and the globe went white again.

Kaitlyn and Willow shared a glance, and shrugged.

"That didn't seem so bad…." Willow started

"No, no, it was horrible," Miss Patty said, then calmed herself. "I understand you live in a harsher world, where perhaps simply surviving is enough. But I've known Lorelai Gilmore a long time now, I admit she is not a perfect person… but that. She doesn't deserve that. Please, if you can help…"

"Of course," Willow said, "we'll do everything we can."

**-30-**


	10. Chapter 10: Dining

**Chapter 10: Dining**

**A/N:** For Disclaimers, warnings see Chapt. 1

**A Schism in Stars Hollow**

**A Father Goose Digression**

**Chapter 10: Dining**

"Bone jar Messer Froggie, ooh aye la twalett poobleekay?"

Michel, looking as far down his nose as he possibly could, peered at the pair of adolescents, one rather plump boy and a girl who had a certain gamine quality, who were currently annoying him.

"Bone saw, numbnuts," the girl said, "it's evening."

"Whatever," the boy replied, and turned back to Michel and repeated, "Bone saw Messer Froggie, ooh aye la twalett poobleekay?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Michel said.

"Hey, I thought you were a French guy ?"

"I am French, yes. Now go away."

"So, I'm speaking French."

"No, you are not."

"Well, not now, but I was…"

"No, you were not. Now go."

"Was too, just now, 'bone _saw_ Messer Froggie, ooh aye la twalett poobleekay'?"

"Perhaps if you go in the kitchen and ask nicely the chef will give you a glass of water. Right through that door," Michel said, pointing eagerly at Sookie's domain.

"I don't want a glass of water," the boy said.

"Just the opposite, really," the girl added with a grin.

"Just answer the question, dude, ooh aye la…."

"Stop!" Michel said quickly, "Stop. Do not speak to me. Please," he turned to the girl, his eyes pleading. "What do you want?"

"The restrooms, dude. His folks are in the room makin' the beast with two fat asses, so…"

"Stop. Please. Do not speak to me any more. Go toward the dining room then turn left down that hall there. There are two doors that some idiot in a moment of wild optimism has caused to be marked with the words 'Ladies' and 'Gentlemen'. Nevertheless, I assure you, no alarms will sound when you enter your respective portals. Good-bye."

"Dude," the girl said, "what hall, I don't see a hall."

"It is there by the dining room. You cannot miss it."

"I don't see no hall, man," the boy said, "and I really gotta go here, you gotta bottle or something there behind the counter…."

"No. Please, if I will show you will you promise never, never to speak to me again?"

"Yeah, sure, dude."

"Walk this way please…" Michel said and started across the lobby, ignoring the giggling behind him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, that meeting wasn't so bad," Lorelai said as they entered the house and began turning on the lights. "I was kinda hoping all the Xena's were going to attack, but I guess they were too busy pinching Luke's butt. You doing something with Jess tonight?"

"No," Rory answered, "we already did the Hartford movie and bookstore thing this afternoon."

"So, just you and me tonight? Movie?"

"Movie," Rory answered, moving to the phone, "Pizza or chinese?"

"I think Chinese. Unless you'd rather do pizza?"

"Chinese is fine. Let's do all the pork dishes this time, okay?"

"Okay."

Rory paused to check the message before calling the Chinese place. "Michel has resigned…." she announced, and waited, listening, "…. Three more times. Something about not being required to speak French with people who don't speak French. Seems reasonable. And Miss Patty wants you to call her."

"Oh, what about?"

"She didn't say. Just that it was important."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They met in Vanessa's room.

"Did you get it?" she asked eagerly and, being just as cool and casual as he possibly could, Jules slid the guest list he'd stolen off the diverted Michel's desk out from under his shirt and held it out to be snatched unceremoniously from his hands.

"Cool," Vanessa mumbled, reading avidly.

"So what?" Dustin said. "It's not like she's going to register as Faith the Dragon Slayer…."

"Exactly. So she's going to have to make up a name, and it's either going to be something really cool or something funny, right? But what it's _not _going to be is … Amanda Ericssohn. Or Helen Johnson. Now this one, _Rita Fubar, _that's gotta be made up. And this, _Phoenix Drake, _that's kinda of cool. Phoenix like in reborn, Drake like in Draco, so maybe…."

"What about this one," Jules said, reading over her shoulder, "_Charity Wigglesworth…._"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So," Giles said, 'the whole demon shield is just a side effect of the blessing on the child?" They were in Giles' room at the Inn, Willow and Kaitlyn reporting on their trip to town.

"Yes," Willow nodded. "It's not even demon specific, just anti-evil…. there's no fast food chains or big box stores here either."

"And next year she's going to Yale… that should be interesting," Giles said thoughtfully. "I'll have to check with Toby but I believe that, percentagewise, the number of demons on the faculty there is almost twice that of the average American university, almost as bad as Notre Dame. I wonder what transpires when little Miss Blessed arrives on campus?"

"Nothing spectacular I'm afraid," Willow said, "Miss Patty isn't that powerful. The sphere of influence will shrink…the girl will live in a demon free dorm, she'll get all the classes she wants, that sort of thing."

"And the town?"

"As long as it's important to her there will be some protection, but the more she moves away … it's not like there's some great wave of evil just waiting to pour in, it's just that gradually the place will become more and more … ordinary."

"And the mother?" Giles asked.

"Same as the town, really. As the girl matures and moves away, emotionally as well as physically, the less protection the blessing affords her mother. Problem is, there _does_ seem to be a demon just waiting to pour in at the first opportunity, in fact Lorelai seems to have made some sort of Faustian deal with it. So unless you're going to need us later, I thought after dinner we'd take Buffy and go see if we can't _renegotiate, _so to speak."

"You know where it is, then?"

"We think so," Willow answered.

The door burst open then and the Summers' sisters came bounding in,

"Hey," Buffy crowed, "guess who sucks at undercover and isn't me?"

"Dawn?" Willow guessed.

"No!" Dawn answered, "_Dawn_ is the _master _of undercover…"

"Pfffft! Master, shmaster," Buffy said, "They totally picked up on you being different, just cause you managed to convince them you weren't Faith…"

Giles sat soaking in the happy banter, enjoying Buffy's pleasure in teasing him about being careless enough to let the kids overhear his and Xander's conversation even as he made a mental note to be more careful in the future. He'd been spending so much time behind a desk at the Council headquarters he was getting sloppy.

Speaking of Xander, Faith's bike had been spotted in the parking lot so apparently they had returned from whatever the "slayer maintenance" Xander had felt was needed and were probably in their room. Where not even Andrew was foolish enough to interrupt them.

After a few minutes the room cleared as everyone went off to freshen up before dinner. Giles moved to look out the window and contemplate the peaceful scene, the manicured lawn, the gently rippling lake. He thought about Willow's story and wondered briefly what it would be like to live in such an idyllic setting, in the anti-Sunnydale, as it were. Ambling down to the bakery for tea and pastries with the morning papers, the day spent tending a shop or doing translations or some other non-apocalyptic employment. A bit of idle conversation over dinner at one of the local restaurants, the evening spent with a book and a glass of good scotch, reading for pleasure for a change, perhaps a novel instead of stodgy Watcher reports or Sumerian prophecies. A nightcap and bed, get up and do it again the next day.

Dead boring is what it would be, he decided after a moment or two. Just as Buffy had eventually discovered that were was such a thing as too much time to shop Giles knew there was such a thing as too much peace and quiet. Perverse creatures, humans, he thought.

Oh well, too much peace and quiet was not something he was going to be threatened with anytime soon. As it was, he sometimes missed, if not the peace and quiet of Sunnydale, the relative simplicity.

He had spent the afternoon at the XLH meeting listening to the various arguments that were, of course, the occasional flights of fine language notwithstanding, mostly about money and power. He'd watched XLH Joe B. working the crowd, moving from faction to faction, shaking hands and talking earnestly … the consummate politician. Giles had watched the performance with a mixture of sympathy, admiration, and distaste. A colleague at work, building his empire.

A politician, Giles thought. Not a fighter pilot, not a grocer, not even a Watcher anymore, really. A politician. The one thing he'd always known he didn't want to be, he had become. A politician. With his own empire.

Politician, secret policeman, spymaster, CEO, sitting in London reading reports and moving people around like gamepieces.

Terrifying to realize, as he did sometimes in mornings as he shaved, staring at the strange old man in mirror, that he had become in a way one of the most powerful men on Earth.

He tried not to be. He did his best to make sure the Watchers and slayers In the field had as much autonomy as possible. He made sure there were _guidelines_, not _rules. _Slayers were _asked_ to take on certain assignments, never _ordered. _He spent his days trying make the Council useful to slayers and not vice versa… yet at the same time he often felt himself as devious as Travers ever was.

Slayers were moved from post to post ostensibly to give them a broader education and experience, and that was true of course, but also it was done to prevent the creation of regional factions. Young watchers that Giles felt had too much personal ambition were assigned to more difficult slayers or problematic posts that would keep them fully occupied. And so on… His motives he knew to be benign but sometimes his methods… not so innocent.

So far so good, he supposed. Over the years there had been various crises, Robin Woods' brief attempt to create a rival council, a similar situation in China, a pair of South American slayers who had taken up bank robbing as a day job, more recently he'd scattered a faction in the new council that had begun pushing to gather the slayers together into an army and begin what Giles believed would be a disastrous city by city zero tolerance demon eradication campaign … and so on.

Crises that had been handled … in large part by his careful deployment of the Scoobies. Dawn his early warning system, Xander and Faith his roving troubleshooters, Buffy the big stick he carried when he needed to talk softly and be heard. And always the threat of Willow looming in the background.

The new council and all the slayers were still young, the Scoobies still legendary heroes that no one wanted to publicly oppose. For all the _situations_ handled, who knew how many had fizzled stillborn at the thought of the Scoobies' opposition. And it wasn't simply fear either. To his shame Giles knew full well the easiest way to coerce an unwilling slayer into taking an assignment was to sigh dramatically and say, "Well, if that's your decision I'll call Buffy and explain your position and we'll find someone else… " by which time the slayer would usually be begging to go if only he wouldn't tell Buffy she'd balked.

So far so good, but someday … Someday the Council would have to learn to do without the Scoobies, and that was kept Giles up at night, worrying that the institution he was building would fail that test, his greatest fear not some demon apocalypse but the spectre of a future slayer versus slayer war brought on by the Council's corruption or incompetence.

After all, Giles knew full well what happened to the best laid plans. A bit over decade ago the Council had sent a relatively young and inexperienced Watcher off to mentor an untrained slayer on the Hellmouth, fully expecting him either to be killed or crushed by the quick death of his slayer. It had not been an unreasonable expectation.

And yet, here he was and Travers and company were vapor. And ten years from now….

Ah, he told himself, that way madness lies. Well, he knew a sure cure for his growing tendency to wax philosophic and melancholy. He unclipped his cell and dialed Xander's number, and smiled to hear it ringing just outside his door, which then opened and admitted a hunching Xander Harris,

"You called, mathter?" he Igored, then straightened and grinned, spoke in his normal voice, said, "Yo, Reggie, what's the plan?"

"The plan?"

"You figured out what we're gonna do about these fruitloops yet?"

"Oh. Yes, I believe so. How is Faith? Was your trip a success?"

"Yeah. Damn, this is tiny country, Giles, all these little hills and over each hill there's another little town with one of those little white churches and three stop lights, all red. But yeah, she's good, we found what we were looking for."

"And how are you?" Giles asked.

"I'm good," Xander answered as Giles knew he would.

"Apéritif?" Giles asked.

"Yeah, actually, that sounds good," Xander said, dropping bonelessly into a chair, "as long as it's not sherry."

"G and T?"

"Sure."

Giles dug in the mini-bar and busied himself making the drinks, then handed Xander his and took a sip of his own and settled back on the bed.

"Now," he said, "let's try that again. How are you?"

"Seriously Giles, I'm fine." He paused. "A little tired, maybe. Nothing a little sun and sleep won't fix. We thought maybe we'd get Willow to port us down to Camp Kendra tomorrow. We haven't been there for… I forget, maybe a couple years now. Time just kinda slips on by, don't it?"

"Yes. Faster every year," Giles agreed. "You two have become quite the world travelers, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Who'da thunk, huh? Guy who couldn't get past Oxnard, makin' Kerouac look like a homebody. It's no big, Giles. It's what we do. Have stake, will travel. Spill."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're leading up to something."

Giles smiled. "What would you say to playing the gentleman farmer for a couple months, maybe more if you're so inclined?"

"But I don't know anything about farming."

"Yes, hence the use of the term _"gentleman farmer" _which translates into the vernacular as "rich bastard who knows bugger all about farming," so I think under the circumstance you're qualified."

"Where?"

"Napa valley."

"I dunno, Giles, that sounds a bit … _rural…_ for us. Faith is …. a lot calmer these days, but if she goes too long without a slay she still gets cranky, which is so not fun."

"Well, you'd only be a few hours drive from San Francisco, and after the first week or so I'm sure you'd have plenty of free time. Plus I understand there are vampires preying on the migrant workers…." Giles paused as, to his horror, Xander began to sing,

_"La chupacabra, la chupacabra, Ya no puede caminar ….." _

"Was that really necessary?"

"Hey, who's asking who to who to go live in deepest darkest wine country, here…" He paused. "So we're talking a nice place, right? With like a really big yard and stuff?"

"Yes, the grounds as I understand it are quite extensive."

Xander grinned, "Actually, Smythe-Smythe old boy, this might just be a bit of most excellent timing…."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The nametags that had been prevalent Friday were few and far between now, so the three investigators, after some heated debate, decided to locate the one true Faith by the peek-in-the-window method, taking advantage of the pre-dinner lull. As well they were aided by a bit of cloud cover that hurried the evening darkness, allowing them to sneak along the outer wall of the Inn fairly inconspicuously. Four of the seven names they'd decided had promise were booked in rooms on the first floor so they checked them first.

They'd eliminated _F. Phoenix Drake_ (fat), they'd found _F. Rita Fubar_ (redhead), _F. Charli Brown_ had the right shape and coloring but was eliminated when Vanessa witnessed her struggling to lift her suitcase. The fourth and final first floor "Faith" was sitting on her bed reading a thick book entitled _Recursive Methods in Economic Dynamics. _

"We have to get up to that ledge," Vanessa said. They tried climbing up the drainpipe but Jules cut his hand one of the brackets and they gave that up and went looking for a ladder but found the toolshed had been padlocked. So eventually they gave up and simply went up to Dustin's room on the second floor and climbed out the window and began working their way in single file along the six inch wide ledge that ran around the Inn, marking the divide between the first and second floor, perfectly situated by kind fate for the convenience of peeping toms.

The first of the second floor "Faith's" was eliminated when her "Xander" appeared wearing nothing but about fifty extra pounds and black socks. The penultimate "Faith" was dancing around in her room, listening to Celine Dion.

"Of course," Vanessa grumped, "it would be the very last one, wouldn't it." They edged slowly along, ducking down as they passed each window, Vanessa leading, followed by Jules and Dustin who were quietly but steadily arguing about whether they had just passed room 210 or 212.  
Finally they were there, outside what Vanessa, who, as she pointed out to her minions, could actually count, knew to be the room of the last likely "Faith" on their list, _"F. Charity Wigglesworth." _

Vanessa motioned for the other two to wait while she edged forward, ducking down to peek inside through the lower left corner of the window, for a moment her heart leapt when she saw the long black hair and the toned body. But then she saw what the woman on the bed was doing.

"Fuck," Vanessa whispered. She turned and motioned for the two boys to started moving back.

After they'd moved a little ways from the window Jules whispered,

"You're sure it wasn't her?"

"I'm sure. Faith would never do that."

"Why, what was she doing?" Dustin asked.

"Laying on her bed playing with her puppy," Vanessa hissed and then ran her nose into Jules shoulder. Jules had stopped suddenly in front her because he had run into Dustin who had abruptly stopped and half-turned back to hiss urgently,

"What? We have to go back, I want to see. Was she all naked or…"

"Why would she be naked?" Vanessa said, holding onto Jules' arm as the three of them wavered on the very edge of losing their balance on the narrow ledge.

"You said she was playing with her…."

"Puppy! You know, all furry…."

"Yeah?"

"..with four legs, wiggly tail, black nose, goes _yip_?"

"Oh."

"Pervert. Yeesh," Vanessa sneered, reaching past Jules to slap Dustin's shoulder but only managing to bump Jules and start his arms pin-wheeling as he fought to regain his balance and failed and desperately grabbing the closest handholds took Dustin and Vanessa with him as he fell.

It was only about fifteen feet at most, and the grass was soft, and they landed without injury beyond getting a little of the wind knocked out of them. Vanessa rolled over on her back, stared up at the darkening sky, and waited for her breathing to return to normal.

Somebody up there hates me, she thought sadly.

"You sure it wasn't her?" Jules said after moment. "Just 'cause she had a puppy? I know she's all badass but even badasses love puppies."

Vanessa thought back, pictured the woman on the bed with the goofy grin, talking baby-talk to the tiny animal she was cuddling… No. Faith didn't do that. Maybe badasses tolerated puppies but they didn't kiss them on the nose. That wasn't Faith. _Buffy, _maybe. But not Faith.

"Maybe they didn't even register," Vanessa said, "maybe they've got some VIP room that doesn't even show up on the list."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A puzzled Lorelai parked the jeep outside Miss Patty's neat house, and hurried up the walk.

Something important they had to talk about, not over the telephone, not in front of Rory. What in the world?

The door opened as she approached and Miss Patty stood looking at her. Or not _at _her exactly, but around her, over first her left shoulder, then her right, Lorelai glanced back herself but saw nothing. The Miss Patty shrugged, shook her head.

"Well, I still don't see it… I'm, sorry don't mind me, come in, honey, have a seat."

"Patty, what in the world…."

"I know, hon, I'm sorry to be so mysterious, just bear with me a moment. Tell me, how much do you remember about the day you first arrived here?"

-**30-**

**Next: Chapter 11: Nightlife**


	11. Chapter 11: Nightlife

**A Schism in Stars Hollow**

** A Father Goose Digression **

**Chapter 11: Nightlife**

Lorelai remembered the fear.

She paused as she entered the town square, still pretending to herself that she wasn't on her way to the diner. She had left the jeep at Patty's, told the older woman that she just needed to get a little air. Miss Patty had nodded with understanding, her eyes warm and clear, as if she hadn't just revealed herself to be a raving lunatic.

But Lorelai remembered the fear.

She remembered huddling in Miss Patty's back room while her mother pounded on the studio door. She remembered sleeping in fits and starts, remembered Miss Patty moving about… at the time she'd just assumed that Miss Patty was exercising to help yourself stay awake as she stood guard.

Lorelai remembered the fear and she remembered that in the morning it was gone.

As many times as she'd used the word _evil_ to describe her mother she'd never really thought her as _Evil _evil. Just…. thoughtless. Selfish. Rigid.

Emily thought the world should be a certain way and when it wasn't she took it as a personal attack, and responded in kind and lashed out. Whether the recipient of her reflexive counter-strike was a clumsy maid or a frightened child made no difference, they were just cannon fodder. Emily's war was with the world at large. Which was a war that even someone with Emily Gilmore's resources was bound to lose and Emily was not gracious in defeat.

There _was_ cruelty there. Lorelai had seen the glint in her eyes, the smug smile too often to think that Emily didn't sometimes relish the pain she caused, although Lorelai insisted on believing it wasn't the sadist's visceral pleasure but merely the combatant's joy at scoring a point.

All of which made Emily Gilmore a lousy mother and not a very nice person, but _evil_?

And every once in awhile there was moment, under stress Emily would let her guard down and her daughter would get a peek inside at the lonely, frightened woman behind the walls… walls that inevitably slammed back in place the moment Emily realized her vulnerabilities had been exposed.

Not the healthiest of behaviors, but hardly unusual , very human.

But Lorelai remembered the fear.

It had never been comfortable, living in her mother's house. There had been a sort of constant low grade dread, never knowing when and for what she was going to "spoken to" next, or what casual criticism would leave a new scar, now matter how she tried to pretend it didn't hurt. Until she got older and began to have a pretty good idea what she was going to get in trouble for, often before she did it. At some point she'd realized that only way she could please her mother was to become an entirely different person, a mini-Emily. Which meant she was never going to please her mother and she'd given up trying, had gone quite the other way as teenagers are wont to do. But there had never been _fear_.

Even when she was pregnant … well, there'd been some fear of course, apprehension, nervousness, but that had been about having a baby, it wasn't really a subject discussed in the Gilmore house, but she'd heard rumors that giving birth was, on some occasions, somewhat painful… and pain scared her.

Facing her mother wasn't scary. To be sure she'd dreaded the inevitable confrontation and dramatics, but only because she knew it would be boring and unpleasant. Terrible but not terrifying.

The baby had come. Rory took over her days and nights but otherwise life in the Gilmore manse continued apace, tense, but dull. Claustrophobia but not terror.

And then one morning her father had asked her to run down to the store to get some stamps and she'd got halfway there and remembered she'd forgotten her purse and came back to find her mother carrying the baby down the stairs. There had been a brief moment of hesitant joy … her mother _never_ picked little Rory up, never held her, played with her… just for a moment Lorelai had thought that just maybe her mother did those things in secret, embarrassed after all the recriminations to admit to having affection for her illegitimate grandchild … but then Emily had looked up and seen her and Lorelai saw something in her mother's eyes, something … _cold_. Something that had chilled her to the bone.

It had been all she could do not to grab Rory and run screaming. But she'd held it together, insisted on taking Rory, holding her tight all through breakfast, chattering wildly about anything that came to mind to cover her sudden terror. She'd felt her mother watching her, could almost see the wheels turning as her mother planned her next move.

Lorelai had gone up to her room and packed, hiding in her room until Emily went to her regularly scheduled DAR luncheon, then she'd gone into her father's study, taken some money from the petty cash stash he kept in his desk. And she'd run, with no idea where she was going, or even why, really. She had just known that she _had_ to get Rory out of that house before something terrible happened.

She sat down on the gazebo steps and looked over at the diner. It was closed, not that that ever stopped her. There was a light on the kitchen so Luke was probably there, doing one of the endless chores that came with running a small business.

She wanted so much to run to him, sit at the counter and clasp her coffee and tell him…

Well, that was the problem, wasn't it? Hey Luke, guess what, Miss Patty says she's a witch, that my mother is possessed by a demon and, hey did I ever mention I've sold my soul to the devil? And there's these people at the Inn who think they can help me, 'cause they're witches and they haven't been staring at me 'cause they think I'm cute but because my _aura_ is _polluted_….

He'd think she was crazy. Okay, Luke already thought she was crazy, but a cute over-caffeinated anything-for-a-giggle kind of crazy, not an I-hear-voices-crazy.

He'd laugh at her. In a kind way. Tease her about being gullible and believing one of Miss Patty's tall tales, like the time she danced with Ben Vereen or sang a duet with Dick Smothers…

These "witches," he'd say, how much money do they want to clean your aura?

They haven't asked for money, she'd say.

They will, he'd tell her.

He'd give her pie and talk her down and make her laugh and she'd see how ridiculous the whole thing was and start feeling foolish and she'd go home and watch the rest of the movie with Rory and on Monday the crazy witch people would be gone and Miss Patty would have moved on to some other entertainment….

But Lorelai remembered the fear. Miss Patty hadn't made that up.

And Lorelai remembered the deal she'd made to get the money to send Rory to Chilton. Nothing had been said out loud, but she'd understood. The price had been more than a couple hours every Friday night. The price had been her submission, her accepting her mother back into her daughter's life, something she had sworn would never happen.

It wasn't too much of stretch to describe that as selling her soul.

It was ridiculous. But it was true. She _knew_.

She could see Luke now, moving about in the diner. He'd go with her, if she asked. Even if he thought she was crazy. Even if she didn't even tell him why, he would go if she asked.

And what then? What if he went with her and it was all true, how would he look at her then, with fear? With pity? Disgust? Who would she go to for coffee and comfort then?

She couldn't risk it. She needed Luke to be… Luke. Stable. Kind. Safe.

The diner door rattled, opened, he was coming out. Lorelai eased back, off the steps and into the gazebo's shadow. He stepped out then, paused, seemed for a moment to feel her eyes on him, he looked around, took off his cap and wiped his forehead and looked puzzled for a moment.

If he sees me, she thought, if he senses me here and he comes and asks me what the hell I'm doing hiding in the shadows, then he's meant to go with me. If not…

He shrugged, put the cap back in place, looked around again. And walked away. Lorelai sagged a moment, then straightened herself and walked back to Patty's. The …. witch…. opened her door as she came up the walk.

"So," Lorelai asked, "who we gonna call?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ohmigod," Dawn said, "is that the secret? You _feed_ them? And nobody told me, why?"

"What are you talking about Dawnie?" Willow asked, raising her usually soft voice to be heard above the steady roar of conversation in the crowded dining room.

"Faith just fed her left boob a bit of meat," Dawn announced, "And I just want to know if that's why she's Miss Vavoom and the rest of us have to rely on wonderbra and good legs?"

"Speak for yourself, kiddo," Buffy said, but peered over at an abnormally quiet Faith, who did in fact seem to be showing an unusual interest in looking at her own body rather then showing it to others…

"Look, it's _moving_," Dawn reported, "It's growing right in front of us!"

Suddenly a furry white head appeared in the valley of Faith's cleavage. It had two bright eyes, one of which was encircled by a patch of black, and the required flopped-over ear.

"Oooooh!" Dawn squealed, "Puppy!"

"Geez, alert the media, whydontchya!" Faith snapped, but her irrepressible grin belied her tone and words.

"Oooooh puppy!" squealed …Buffy, Willow, Zoey, Kaitlyn and Andrew.

"Told you," Xander said.

"You're the one insisted we come down and eat with the gang."

"Well, he could have survived in his box for an hour. He's going to have to learn to be alone sometime."

"No he doesn't."

"Uhoh, Xan," Buffy said, laughing, "new alpha dog in the house, huh?"

"So what is … he? She?" Kaitlyn asked.

"He," Faith said proudly, "He's a Fox Terrier."

"Ah," Giles said, "that seems a particularly appropriate choice. Well done. Do you have a name yet?"

"Wyndham," Faith said, "though I figure we'll end up calling him Windy."

"Go ahead, Will," Xander said, "you know you want to."

"No, I don't."

"It's okay honey, let it out," Kaitlyn chimed in.

"That's just Pryceless," Willow said.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lorelai parked the jeep in the usual spot outside her parents house and turned off the engine, took a deep breath. Beside her Miss Patty patted her leg, then opened her door and climbed out, the two witches, Willow and Kaitlyn following. Behind her the following motorcycle rumbled into place and went quiet and the two girls hopped off and stood waiting. Buffy and Zoey. The muscle, Willow had said with a grin.

The muscle? The brunette, Zoey, she did sort look like maybe she was tougher than the average girl but Gina Carano she wasn't. And the blonde looked about as dangerous as one of Babette's gnomes.

Now that she was here the whole thing seemed ridiculous again. How many times had she and Rory gone through this door to encounter nothing worse than brussel sprouts? What was she going to do, ring the bell and say, "Hi Mom, just dropped by to ask, 'Have you been possessed by any demons lately?'"

Part of her wanted it to be true because then, if Emily was the way she was because she was possessed then… then maybe she was just moments away from discovering the kind loving mother she'd always wanted.

And if it wasn't true. Well, her mother already thought she was crazy.

She got out, she marched up to the door, she rang the bell.

Her mother opened after the second ring, "Lorelai, what on earth are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is? Who are these people?"

"Hi Mom," Lorelai said. "These are …. Friends of mine. Can we come in a minute."

"Certainly not! Really, Lorelai, even you should know better than this. One doesn't show up in the middle of night and…."

"_Silent_." Willow's voice was soft but firm, and suddenly Emily was mute, her mouth still forming the words for a few long moments before she realized what had happened and stopped, her eyes going wide. She stepped back then and tried to shut the door but found herself unable to budge it. Lorelai saw her turn pale, her eyes fill with fear.

"Omigod," Lorelai heard herself say, as if from a distance. "Ohmigod." She felt her knees wobble, heard her heart pounding like Lane on speed.

"You know who… well, you know _what_ we are, Mrs. Gilmore," Kaitlyn said, stepping forward.

Lorelai felt the young woman's hand take hold of hers and squeeze gently and she felt her sudden trembling slowly subside, her knees grow steady, her pulse recede to a merely frantic rate.

"We're coming in," Kaitlyn continued, speaking to her mother as she would to a frightened animal. "We have some business to discuss. We can do it in a civilized manner, Mrs. Gilmore, or we can be…. quite crude if necessary. It's up to you."

Despite herself, Lorelai felt a slight twinge of family pride as she watched her mother gather herself together, stand back and open the door.

"Won't you come in," she said with icy courtesy.

"Allow me," Zoey said and stepped quickly forward and went inside, looking around, then nodding and Willow followed with Miss Patty close behind. Then Lorelai let Kaitlyn lead her inside the house that was at once familiar and suddenly very strange indeed. Behind her she was vaguely aware of Buffy shutting the door.

"May I offer you something to drink?" Emily said.

"No, thank you," Willow answered. "I think it would be best if we proceeded directly to business. If we could speak directly to …. Does it have a name?"

"I can't imagine what business you would have with anyone in this house, but perhaps it would be best if you simply told me…"

"The basement," Lorelai said abruptly. She didn't know how she knew but suddenly she just did. "It lives in the basement."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

XLH Jaime Gutierrez knocked diffidently and moments later Giles opened the door, said "Good evening, Jaime," and turned and walked back toward the desk at the center of the room surrounded by a small semi-circle of empty chairs. After a moment the light dawned and Jaime followed him.

"That really doesn't work in a public accommodation, right? The no invite thing."

"What?" Giles answered, then added, "Oh, right, I do apologize, force of habit I'm afraid. No, the invitation is not necessary in public accommodations. Do have seat. The others are coming, I trust?"

"They should be here in half an hour. I told them important and secret. Like I said, I'm not in the inner circle, but I've been around long enough they won't blow me off. They'll be too curious. I think Joe B.'s figured it's to do with the Council but I don't think he realizes you're all here."

"You think he's going to be happy about it?" Giles said, smiling.

"No, but Joe B.'s a very practical guy. … While we're waiting…"

"You want to know what we've decided about your sister?"

"Yes."

"Have you warned her? It probably wouldn't matter but we would prefer that the nest didn't know we were coming."

"I've always told her that if slayers attack she should hide … but no, I haven't given her any kind of time table."

"Good. Xander and Faith will be taking a squad to clean out the nest. They'll have a picture of your sister, if they can capture her without significant risk, they will, but no promises. Xander and Faith have agreed to stay on at the vineyard for an indefinite period. If you can work out an acceptable way to keep your sister under control and the vineyard running, so be it. If not they'll simply dust her and move on. And that decision is theirs. I'm sorry to be high-handed but once you informed us of the nest it rather becomes our business."

"I understand, all I ask is that you give her a chance…"

The door burst open then and Faith bounced in, said, "Hey Giles, you decent?" and without waiting for answer continued, "Dawn said she left her laptop in here?"

Giles pointed and Faith grabbed the computer and leapt onto the bed and sat cross-legged and produced a white puppy out of somewhere inside her shirt and set it down on the bed beside her, where it sat yawning. She opened the laptop and turned it on.

"Faith," Giles said gently, "this is Jaime, he's …"

She looked up, Jaime felt the dark eyes on him for moment like a physical force, then she smiled, "The dude with the wine farm, yeah. Hey." She turned back to the small screen.

"Faith's a little preoccupied at the moment," Giles said dryly. "and not to be rude myself but I do have a few…"

"Please," Jaime said, "don't mind me." He leaned back and watched the slayer two-finger typing. He had been watching them, all of them, ever since he'd realized who they were, trying see if there was something that set them apart, some visible sign of what it was that made them capable of their achievements, some mark those achievements had left.

He hadn't found it. Oh, since he was looking, he was able to spot the slayers, something in the fluid sureness of their movements, the same thing you saw watching sandlot baseball and you recognized the kid who was going to be a star someday. But that was it, otherwise they all seemed a perfectly normal.

They laughed a lot. And something else he couldn't quite put his finger on, a quality, but he was probably projecting that, seeing it only because he was looking.

In the room the puppy yipped, Faith smiled and produced a toy mouse on a string that she began moving about for the puppy to pounce at. The door opened then and Xander Harris came in,

"Oh man," he said, "I'm just the worst Xander ever." He crossed the floor carefully as if walking on slippery ice and sank slowly onto the bed next to Faith.

"What happened, baby?" Faith asked.

"Twinkies," Xander moaned, rolling over on his back and loosening his belt. "Lots and lots of twinkies."

"Did you win?"

"Not even close. God, I think even Dawn beat me. And she wasn't even in the top twenty. Those guys can snarf the cream-filled goodness."

"Hey baby, check this out," Faith said.

"Not if I have to sit up," Xander whimpered.

Lazyass," Faith said but held the computer open over his head. "Waddya think, the collar with the chrome spikes or the gold ones?"

"Whichever you want, babe. Windy won't care. Dogs. Colorblind."

"Yeah? Really?"

"So they say."

"How do they know?"

"Umm… Ask Giles?"

"Nevermind. 'Sides, who said it was for Windy?" She scooped the puppy off the bed with one hand, rolled over and straddled Xander who gave out a half-hearted _oof_. She held the wriggling terrier up beside her face. "We never did replace that one we lost in Morocco. So waddya think, should me an' Windy get matching collars or is that too junior league? Give."

"What?"

"Give."

"Well, they're all mushed now," Xander said and Faith laughed and moved down his legs a little and reached in his pocket to retrieve two slightly flattened Twinkies that slowly began to regain their shape. Faith ripped open the package, broke the first cake in two pieces, popped the larger segment in her mouth and began to feed the other to the eager puppy in small pieces.

"Oh no," Xander said, "he's not going to be a spoiled little puppy, is he?" He reached to pet the tiny head, _"Who's a spoiled little puppy, yeah, who's a spoiled little puppy?"_

Jaime slowly became aware that Giles was watching him, a slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes," Giles said. "It's really them. Xander and Faith, demons tremble at their approach, vampires quake, zombies behead themselves. That's them."

Jaime smiled, "I believe you, but the others…."

He sensed rather then saw the movement on the bed, felt something brush his hair and he turned and saw the still vibrating knife embedded in the wall behind him.

"I think they'll come around," Giles said.

The door opened again, this time it was the slim brunette Jaime knew must be Dawn, Buffy's sister, looking a little green around the gills. She shut the door and slumped back against it.

"Geez, I forgot how truly disgusting those things are," she said, her arms wrapped tight around her belly. She crossed to the bed and pushed weakly at Xander and Faith, "scoot over, you two, I need a soft place to die." She flopped down on her back, threw her arm up over her eyes and for a moment quiet descended on the room. Then Dawn spoke again,

"Please tell me it's Windy that's licking my face?"

The quiet descended again. Jaime stood and went to pull the dagger out of the wall which he did with a little effort. He looked over at the bed where Dawn and Xander were apparently asleep and Faith was making faces for her new pet's entertainment. Jaime would admit that he'd rather looked forward to doing the introductions, to seeing Joe B. and cronies finding themselves little dogs in the big dog's world all of a sudden. But he hadn't quite pictured it like this.

Suddenly Faith cocked her head, listened for a moment, then said,

"They're coming."

They rose then, Dawn and Xander, and raced for the bathroom just as if they both hadn't been nearly comatose a second ago. Dawn won, stuck out her tongue and then squealed with laughter as Xander pushed inside with her. Jaime could hear muffled voices bickering for a few moments then Xander re-emerged rubbing his face with a hand-towel, his eye alert, with his unruly hair combed. He came around the desk, held out his hand,

"You must be Jaime," he said, "sorry, sugar coma there earlier. Nice to meet you."

"It's an honor, sir," Jaime said.

"Stop that."

Dawn appeared then, similarly freshened and was introduced to Jaime just as there was a knock at the door.

"May I?" Jaime asked, grinning and Xander nodded and went to sit on the bed by Faith while Dawn perched herself on the desk as Giles gave his glasses a quick polish and stood beside her.

Unable to contain the shit-eating grin of anticipation Jaime went to the door and opened it to admit XLH Joe and F. Sarah B., XLH's Harvey P. , Robert Y., Renee V., Davis O., Ed G. and hurrying forward to make sure she got a foot in the door, F. Erin M.

"Whatever you're up to Jaime," she said, "You can't keep me out."

"Wouldn't dream of trying, Erin," Jaime said

They filed in and stood behind the semi-circle of chairs, looking puzzled and mildly impatient.

"Okay, Jaime," Joe B. said, "we're here. Who are these people?"

Savoring every second, Jaime walked back to stand by the desk and looked over his audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said softly, "allow me to introduce Mr. Rupert Giles, Ms. Dawn Summers, Faith the Vampire Slayer, and of course, Mr. Xander Lavelle Harris."

In the silence that followed Xander stood and stepped forward held his hand out to the man whose face had suddenly turned bright red,

"Ed," Xander said warmly as the man slowly reached out to clasp the proffered hand, "Nice to see you again."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Emily Gilmore stopped the basement door and looked back at her, her eye managing to be both pleading and angry at the same time.

"Lorelai," she said, "You don't have to do this. If you go home now we'll forget this ever happened."

Lorelai felt herself waver for a moment, but felt Kaitlyn's hand on her arm again and through the feeling.

"No Mom, I need to know."

"Very well then." She unlocked the door and led them down into the crowded antique and white elephant shop that was the basement. She opened the secret panel to reveal the large vivarium. Lorelai felt numb, thinking of all the times she'd come down here to play or simply hide … to make out with boys. And all that time this … thing, this whatever it was just a thin panel of wood away, listening, maybe even watching?

She watched her mother light candles, saw her kneel and speak a brief incantation. They waited. Emily leaned forward to tap on the glass. Lorelai stepped forward, staring intently, quartering the empty space with precision.

"There's nothing there, Mom," she said. "What's going on?"

And then she saw where her mother was staring, at the top of the cage, and saw that it had been shifted aside. A

Willow stepped forward then, laid her hand against the glass and closed her eyes a moment.

"Upstairs," she said.

"Mom?" Lorelai said but Emily was already moving, so they followed, up the stairs, through the dining room into her father's study. Her mother went in and sat suddenly on the chair beside the desk. Her father was in his leather reading chair, facing the fireplace and away from the door so that Lorelai saw only the back of his head and the giant golden snake, a cobra with its head raised and hood flared, its long body wrapped around her father's neck and shoulders.

**-30-**

**Next: Chapter 12: Departures**


	12. Chapter 12: Departures

**Chapter 12: Departures**

**A/N:** For Disclaimers, warnings see Chapt. 1

**A Schism in Stars Hollow**

**A Father Goose Digression**

**Chapter 12: Departures**

The trouble with being bored, Jules thought, was that it was so fucking boring.

This was turning out to be one lousy Saturday night. He'd been forced to eat dinner with his parents. The food had been good, he had to admit, but his mother had kept saying how terribly fattening it was and she shouldn't have any more and then stealing stuff off of his plate. Dessert had been called prophet rolls or something, fancy little balls of dough with ice cream inside covered in the best damn chocolate sauce he'd ever had. But his mom had refused hers and he'd seen the look in her eye and bolted his so fast he'd been near-puking for fifteen minutes after.

Finally he'd made his escape and went looking for Vanessa only to find she was being forced to go to some women's thing with her mother. She'd given him the "What can I do?" shrug. She'd had a little bit of chocolate sauce on her lip. Jules had felt like crying.

He hadn't, frankly, looked all that hard for Dustin, but he'd found him anyway, in line to join the Twinkie eating contest. Jules had figured he'd pass on that.

So here he was, up in the room, watching some old movie on TV, with his laptop open, trying to log into his _SuitWar: Clash of the Incorporated _RPG but having a bit of trouble with the Inn's shaky wi-fi connection. All I need now, he thought, is a pocket protector and some acne, little touch of asthma. At least he had the room to himself, his father had gone off to some hush-hush meeting and his mom was off to the same thing Vanessa was at.

And then suddenly life got better. There was a tapping at the window and it was Vanessa out on the ledge. He opened the window and helped her inside.

"I escaped," she said, "women, alcohol and swords," she said, "it was ugly. Watchya doin?"

"Nothin' much. Just… checkin' out slayer sites and stuff, see if maybe there was a picture of the real Faith…" he said with sudden inspiration.

"Oh, yeah? Any luck?" Vanessa said eagerly.

"No, not really," he said and she sagged.

"Yeah," she said sadly, "I figure they're actually pretty careful about that. God, I feel so... " she sighed, just a trace of tears in her voice.

Jules thought frantically, the primordial male need to avoid female tears overriding the part of his brain that was jumping up and down trying to point out that if she cried she would need to be comforted….

"I did have another idea," he said quickly, "do you still have the list of names?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling a much folded paper out her pocket. Jules took it and spread it out on the bed, moving the laptop aside and taking advantage of the moment to close the_ SuitWar_ page.

"So," he said, "what do we know? We know Xander's here and we know Giles is here. So there's a whole bunch of Xander's and Faith's, but there's hardly any British guys, right? I guess cause the whole Council being in England thing. So I thought, maybe we should look for Giles…"

"Ohmigod, I'm such an idiot," Vanessa said, hopping up on the bed beside him and beginning to run her finger down the list, "I saw that name, God, I remember thinking it was like a Monty Python thing. Yeah, Reginald Smythe-Smythe. He has a single. And next door…. Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Pull up babelfish on that thing would you?"

"Okay," Jules said. "Just give me a sec. Okay, waddya want?"

"Italian to English. Alba … a-l-b-a Estate e-s-t-a-t-e. And…?"

"I'll be damned," Jules said excitedly, "Dawn Summer," and turned expecting to see a pleased and eager Vanessa only to see the tears starting down her cheeks, heard her wail,

"God, I'm _such_ an _idiot. _A _moron. _"

"No, you're not. You're the one who figured…"

"Don't you get it? That was _Buffy_ and _Dawn. _I met _The Slayer_ and her sister and all I could do was babble on about how much I wanted to meet Faith…"

"Um…" Jules started, only to be overridden,

_"They were laughing at me!" _

And finally the wiser half of Jules' brain got a moment at the controls and Jules held out his arms and Vanessa lunged forward and buried her face in his shoulder and mumbled on,

"I don't know what I was thinking, what would a slayer have to say to me anyway, I'm nothing, I'm not a potential, I'm just some dumb girl with crazy parents, God I'm glad I _didn't _find her…."

Jules closed his arms around her. She was soft and warm and she smelled … quite a bit like chocolate really, but also … other things, nice things. He began to gently stroke her hair and let her babble on his shoulder.

And then, because this was how things happened in Jules' world, there was a clatter and a crash and Dustin fell in through the open window, then picked himself up, said,

"Watchya guys doin… oh, hell dude, I'm sorry, If I'd known you were getting some I'd stayed outside and watched…"

At which Vanessa of course thrust herself away from Jules, announcing, "No one's getting anything here."

"No, we were just…" Jules mumbled.

"So we still on the great slayer hunt then?"

"No," Vanessa stated, "I'm sick of fucking slayers and all this bullshit."

"Oh, okay," Dustin shrugged, "So, you wanta go burn a bowl by the lake then?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Faith possessed herself of patience. She ran through some of the exercises she'd developed over the years, she pictured fish swimming through a reef, pictured herself swimming with them, let herself float … brought herself back to Giles' room and tried to pay attention.

Any other time she would have kicked back and enjoyed watching Giles' bring the hammer down on these whackjobs but just at the moment she had other things on her mind. One of which was attacking her finger. She let him worry her pinkie for a moment then flipped him over on his back and tickled his round little belly. He was messing with her mind, the little furball. Bringing back funky memories, remembering begging her Mom to let her have a puppy, another time to let her keep this alley mutt who'd followed her home (allright, the rope around his neck might have had something to with that but still…). But that wasn't it, really. She'd had Windy for just hours now, but she'd held him against her chest, felt his heart beating, seen him look up at her with those trusting, eager eyes… and she knew she would kill to keep him safe, she would never, ever let anyone do the kind of things … her mother had let people do to her.

So maybe six months from now when he'd chewed her favorite boots and shit on the carpet she'd feel different, but she didn't think so.

Besides she knew Windy was more symptom than cause. She'd been thinking thoughts … ever since they'd made plans to come to this shindig and she'd seen how excited Xan was to get together with the old gang again.

He never complained, and hell, after all, he was the one who made the travel plans. Either he'd get a call from Giles or some other source and off they'd go. Oh, he'd check with her but she was always with the "whatever" and she meant it. One place was like another to her. He always managed to get them some scuba time or some hang-gliding time in between gigs which was the only thing she would have asked for anyway.

But she wondered sometimes if maybe he'd schedule a bit more time in Rome or England if she got along better with Buffy and Red. Not that they fought or anything, but … well, there was just always going to be a 'but.'

For one thing, if Red ever realized just how many close calls Xan had had over the years backing her up … the sort of close calls that wouldn't have happened if she'd waited for slayer backup… yeah, if Red ever got the full story Faith figured she'd spend at least a few hours hopping around and eating flies.

And probably deserve it. She felt as strong as ever herself and hell, Xan was in his prime and not really starting to slow down. Not yet. But it wasn't true that whatever didn't kill you made you stronger. Sometimes what didn't kill you made your bad leg weak and painful on days when the weather changed. Or made you sneak off three days a week to see a physical therapist for help rebuilding the torn muscles in your left shoulder. Arriving too late too save a young slayer who'd got in over her head made you harder…. But stronger, not so much.

Sometimes what didn't kill you made you get up in the wee hours and sit staring out into the night when he thought she was asleep. Sometimes what didn't kill you slowly wore you down.

Much as she loved having him all to herself, loved knowing even as they settled into the guestroom of this or that slayer house for a week, a month, sometimes even longer, they were still _XanderanFaith, _she knew it wasn't enough. He needed friends. _Family. _A place to call home. A place to rest. She wanted him to have that, she wanted to give it to him. She just wasn't sure if she could, if she knew how to give him what she'd never had. But she had to try.

What was it B said? Love made you do the wacky.

So maybe she wanted it too, just a little. Windy was just the first step. But it had been a big one, that's what the pitty-pat of the little bastard's heart in her hand was telling her. There was no going back.

Deep thoughts. Sometimes this whole getting older and wiser thing sucked.

_Giles, _she told herself, _meeting. _Funny.

She watched as the guy with the wine farm, Jaime, dropped the bomb, saw their jaws drop and their eyes goggle and then, and this was the really funny part, she watched them all take moment to try to figure out just how much trouble they were in and what the odds getting out of it unscathed were. All except the big guy, Joe B. who had no guilt at all, just suspicion and anger, glaring over at Jaime, then at Giles, at Xan, at her.

She watched Xan shake hands all around, doing that thing he did she could never quite manage, the whole charming, being nice to people thing. She watched the nerdy guy, Harvey, get all stammery, she watched F. Erin M. go all giggly. She watched them all exchange glances as Xan turned and came back to sit beside her. She felt a sudden rage. She could see it in their eyes, they were …. disappointed. What the fuck, did they expect him to be eight feet tall? Pansy shits had no fucking idea what he'd done, who the fuck were they to…

_Fish. Gliding through blue water. The sun's golden rays on the reef. _

"Well," Joe B. said, "very convincing, but considering we are at a convention of Xander and Faith imitators …. you wouldn't be trying to kid a kidder here, would you, Jaime?"

Ah, that would be her cue. She handed Windy over to Xan and bounced off the bed and paused a moment to give Sarah B. a smirk, then eased into Joe B.'s personal space,

"What'samatter, baby," she said, "Don't you think I'm real?" She leaned in, reached around his waist and under his shirt and found the pistol holstered in the small of his back where the smell of gun oil had told her to expect it. She took the weapon and stepped back said,

"Expecting trouble?" She popped the clip, cleared the chamber and then, holding the gun up high enough to be sure they all could see, she bent the barrel in half, crushed the plastic handle and bent the metal frame up over the pretzled barrel and tossed the remains to Sarah B. who caught it with a glare.

"Satisfied? We could do that thing where I close my eyes and throw knives…"

"Thank you, Faith, I don't think that will be necessary," Giles said dryly. "Gentlemen, ladies, please have a seat."

Faith went back to the bed, gave Xan a quick kiss and reclaimed her puppy, turned and watched the XLHer's settling nervously into their seats.

"For the record," Giles was saying, "Jaime here had nothing to do with our being here. That is … the result of a fortuitous accident. Jaime recognized me, and approached me earlier and we had pleasant chat. And as a favor I asked him to help me organize this little meeting. I want to say first we bear you no animosity, in fact I must admit to being rather impressed. To be quite honest I was expecting … something much less professional. You all, and I am definitely including the ladies in this, have great intestinal fortitude, to say the least. We've done a little checking into your charities and with a few exceptions….

"Three of the orphanages in Eastern Europe," Dawn interjected, "are nothing but maildrops. Besides cutting them off from more funds, there probably isn't much you can do about them. The runaway home in Atlanta is a front for underage prostitution…"

"What? No, it can't…" Harvey started, his face going pale.

"The nosy parker's back at the Council are convinced you didn't know, Harvey," Giles added. "Our preliminary investigation shows no demonic involvement so we'll be providing you with a package of documents and details tomorrow and if you go to the FBI first thing Monday, you should be able to close them down and still limit the damage to your legitimate agencies. As far as we can tell within the limited time we've had to look around, the rest of your charities are doing good work…. All of which, I'm afraid, is rather beside the point. I just want you to understand that Xander and I have listened to your presentations and discussions … we've talked, we've tried to find some way to let you continue, but I'm sorry, there really isn't. You have to stop."

Faith watched their faces, she saw the disappointment settle in. A couple of them nodded, it was what they'd expected, the others … little flares of anger, surprise, resentment flashed over their faces before the acceptance. Only Joe and Sarah B. seemed stubbornly resistant.

"And if we refuse?" Joe B. said.

"In two weeks," Dawn said, "we are going to start spreading the word that anyone claiming to be Xander, or in fact to be anyone associated with the slayers and the council, and demanding payment, is a fraud and is not under our protection. If you play nice, we'll include a bit about how we'd frown on retaliation for past extortions. If not…" she smiled. Sweetly. Sort of. Like a happy shark.

Faith almost laughed out loud, Little B was picking up a few skills of her own.

"How much? Ten percent? Twenty?" Sarah B. said. Faith felt her hackles raise, not so much at the question which she thought reasonable but at the tone of voice. She didn't, she decided, much like Sarah B.

"No," Giles said. "I'll not pretend I didn't play with the idea, we could certainly use the money. But no."

"Why the hell not!" Joe B. exploded, standing, "You'd rather the demons keep it….?"

"Joe, please," Harvey tried to intervene, but the larger man pushed him roughly away.

"No. Who the hell are you to just decide what we do? Who are you to play with our hard-earned futures? Maybe we're not super-heroes but we take risks, our people have died, and you're going to just sic the demons on us..."

Faith started to rise but felt Xander's hand on her leg, and settled back and watched Giles sigh and remove his glasses and give them a quick polish and then put them in his pocket. And then he stood, gave a glowering Dawn a quick pat on the shoulder, and came around the desk and if Faith hadn't known better she would have thought Willow was there doing a glamour of some kind so much did the older man seem to change, his back straighten, his eyes go hard, his voice cold, if still quiet,

"Sit down, Joseph Barton," Giles said and the big man sat.

Waddya know, Faith thought, the Ripper lives.

"This is not a debate," Giles continued. "No, you're not super heroes, you're not any kind of heroes. You're parasites, trading on reputations earned with blood and I'll not have it. Do you think if we wanted to sell protection to demons we would need your help? You're cute with your look-alike contests and you're well-meaning charities, so we're trying to be kind here. But like any parasite, you do harm. One of you expressed the hope that maybe some random vamp would hesitate to kill because you had convinced it that Faith was around. Maybe that happens, now and then. But that's not how the world works, not among humans. Not among demons. What happens is that vamp sits there thinking he paid for his protection, he's entitled to his kill. That night and the next and the night after." Giles paused, stood still, his gaze moving slowly from one XLHer to the next until he'd found them all.

"I'll not embarrass Mr. Harris by reciting his virtues and achievements, you seem reasonably well versed in those. But what he's done he's never done for gain and you dishonor him by taking money in his name and it will stop. _Now._" And he turned and ambled back around the desk, took out his glasses, gave them a polish and put them on, and when he spoke into the silence the Ripper was gone and the genteel Britisher was back, speaking sadly,

"It is a big cold world. And there are far more demons out there then slayers. We cannot be everywhere, so we must be anywhere. We must be the thing that goes bump in the demon's night, we must be the vampire's bogeyman. And a bogeyman who takes bribes … just isn't that scarey anymore." He sat forward.

"You've had a nice run, Joe. You've got a capital and pool of self-starting personnel, I should think an entrepreneur of your caliber should be able to find a new source of income before long. Now, about that capital, which, you understand, we could simply take…."

"Yes?" Joe said.

"I trust a portion of it and its proceeds will be allocated to the charities which I believe we all trust Harvey to oversee…"

"Of course."

"Now, about tomorrow, I assume you would like to make the announcement …"

And this, Faith thought, suddenly wanting very much to be out of the room, is my other cue. She stood, looked to Giles who nodded with a smile and she left.

"So, poor Giles, huh, Windy?" she said. "Gotta make damn sure no one thinks they can buy a slayer, yeah? 'Cause sooner or later they'll find one for sale and then the shit hits the fan. What? Don't look at me, I'm a good guy now. Yes I am, uhuh, yes I am." She held the puppy to her face to reiterate her point eye to eye and got her nose licked and ended up laughing instead.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miss Patty stared in horror at the huge snake wrapped around Richard Gilmore's shoulders. She still couldn't see any auras but she could feel the evil in the air, this particular evil she could even recognize somehow. She glanced over at Lorelai and saw her face was ashen and she moved to take her arm even as the younger witch moved to support her other side.

The chair squeaked then and began to turn, and Miss Patty braced herself for the sight of death and the fainting or screaming that was bound to come with it and….

Richard looked up and smiled, carefully marked his place in the book he, and, apparently the snake, over his shoulder, had been reading.

"Lorelai, really, this is a family matter. Was it really necessary to involve these people?"

Lorelai tried to speak, then stumbled and Miss Patty and the little witch, Kaitlyn, that was her name, eased her down into a chair.

"Dad," she managed to gasp out, "what is …..?"

"This is, as you would know if you hadn't decided to run away just as we were preparing your final and full initiation, is Amsherket, who has been the Gilmore family demon for as long as records have been kept. He has taken, as you can see, the form of an asp for some esoteric reason of his own, and sometimes claims it was he who took Cleopatra's life but personally I believe that to be mere braggadocio."

"I bit her on the left breasssst," the snake said, "jussst above the heart. She died in ecsssstacy."

"And sometimes," Richard continued, "he affects a very annoying lisp, which I trust he will cease forthwith."

"Spoilsport," the snake said.

"The Gilmore family demon," Lorelai managed to gasp out. "All this time… it lived in the basement?"

"Not always. Sometimes he traveled with my mother."

"The slave-driving bitch," the snake said.

"Keep a civil tongue, Amsher, that's my mother you're talking about."

"Ah, you recognize the description," the snake said. And stuck out his tongue.

"The Gilmore family demon," Lorelai repeated. "I'm just trying to understand. What is a family demon?"

"It's quite simple, Lorelai. Long ago one of our ancestors made a bargain. His soul for…. " he gestured toward the elegant surroundings, "all this."

"And you, you just inherited…"

"Yes. Although every Gilmore gets a choice…"

"I've never been turned down," the snake said. "You're venal bunch, really."

"And my mother…."

"Is sitting right here," Emily said, "and yes, I made the choice as well. My soul for life with your father."

"Oh, pff," the snake said, "you make it sound so romantic. You wanted the house and trimmings too, just like all the others. And a very pallid soul it was, I must say. I wanted the other one."

"No one cares what you want," Emily snapped.

"Alasss," the snake said. "Truer words were never spoken."

"But I turned you down, right?" Lorelai said, "I ran away."

"Yes you did. But you didn't go far."

"I found a safe place."

"Did you? The silly witch blessed the child, not the place. You could have moved on. But its not really a question of geography. You're very much your mother's daughter. Practically a mirror image."

"I am not!"

"What does your mother do, for a living, as it were? She arranges parties, she supervises cooks and maids. What is it that you do? You manage an Inn, you oversee cooks and maids, you arrange parties. A little larger scale, perhaps, but same same."

"That just happened, Mia is the one who took me in. If Fran had taken us I'd be a baker."

"Perhaps," the snake said. "You think your mother is a petty tyrant, full of silly protocols? Who is it that has rules about how to watch a movie? Who is it when she's upset makes a sarcastic remark or twelve and goes off and sulks? That would be… both of you. You think your mother was angry and rigid when you had Rory, you think you would be all sweetness and light if Rory had turned up pregnant at fifteen? You think you would simply stand back and let her raise the kid any way she saw fit?"

"Maybe not, but there's a reason that didn't happen," Lorelai snapped. "I made sure that didn't happen."

"And you think _your _mother is the controlling one?" the snake snickered. "You wait and see, how kind and understanding and non-judgmental you are when Princess Rory finally does something you don't like. And let's talk about this obsession with Harvard. You don't think little Rory came up with that on her own, do you?"

"I just want the best for my daughter."

"What, life in Stars Hollow not good enough for Rory? I wonder who would agree with you on that? Your mother, possibly? And the best? Rory wants to be a journalist, right? Harvard and Yale don't even have journalism programs. One doesn't go to Harvard and Yale to get the best education, one goes Harvard and Yale to meet the right people, right Richard?"

"Absolutely."

"Gilmore kind of people. Our sort. Sure you ran away, Miss Lorelai," the snake hissed, "but you came running right back. There are many ways to succeed, to build a life. There are great universities all over this country. You picked the one path that would bring Rory, and you, right back into the world of your childhood, into the world of the Gilmores. Chilton, Harvard or Yale. Exactly what your mother wanted for you. You couldn't stay away. You just wanted an excuse to return, to save face, to blame your needs on your daughter. I'll admit your soul is a slightly spicier morsel than your mother's, but you sold it to me just as she did, and for the same things."

"That's not true!"

"What is this," a new voice spoke, "All My Children? Can we just cut to the chase here?" There was a sudden flash of movement and Miss Patty stared in amazement as the little blonde girl lunged forward and grabbed the demon by the neck just above the hood and again with her other hand just below the hood and stood with eyerolling impatience as the snake writhed and roiled and utterly failed to break free, managing only to knock Richard Gilmore out of the chair and onto the floor where he stayed until the snake quieted, albeit still hissing angrily. He pulled himself to his feet where he stood staring.

"Lorelai Gilmore," he said, "just what did you bring into this house?"

"So," the blonde said, ignoring him, "what's the deal here, Will? We just kill the demon or do we have to twist his tail 'til he sets everyone's soul free first?"

"You can't kill me," the snake whispered hoarsely.

"You know, I've lost count of how many demons have told me that, but I do know this," the blonde said, "they're all dead."

"I don't know, Buffy," Willow said, "You know anything about this demon, Miss Patty?"

"Only that is it is the same one that was chasing the girls that time. And that what he really wanted was the baby."

"I see," Willow said. She stepped forward, leaned over and looked the snake in the eye, "So, _Amsherket, _was it? This _choice _you spoke of, more a formality than an actual choice, yes?"

The snake snickered. "You know what the Jesuits say, give me the child until the age of seven and he is mine for life." he said. "The old woman," he said, pointing his tail at Emily. "She chose, all on her own."

"Yes, well, not the point, Amsher. The point is if the choices had truly been voluntary, we might have found a way to let you live. But now…. Well, we can only offer you a choice between slow and painful and quick and clean. Set these people free, and we'll make it quick."

"Go hump a broomstick, witch," the snake snarled. "What business is it of yours, anyway, you meddling hags…"

"Ohhh, sweet talker. Give him a taste, Buffy," the redhead said and Miss Patty saw the blonde girl tighten her grip and twist…

They screamed then, all three of them, Emily, Richard, and Lorelai, and suddenly Willow was waving frantically for Buffy to stop, she did and the three Gilmore's sagged, moaning and groaning,

"Ohmigod, honey, are you all right?" Miss Patty asked urgently, bending over Lorelai's limp form.

After a moment she nodded weakly, "Please," she whispered, "whatever you did, don't do it again."

"They are part of me," the snake said, "I am part of them. Kill me and they die too."

"Lorelai," Willow said then, her voice suddenly firm, commanding, "Lorelai, call your daughter."

"What?"

"Call your daughter. Ask her if she felt a sudden pain."

Miss Patty waited then, growing unusually impatient as Lorelai chatted with her daughter, apologizing for the evening lost, promising to explain later, listening to what her daughter had been up to in her absence, finally slipping in the question about the sudden pain. Finally she closed the phone.

"No pain," she said and Miss Patty released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She felt Willow's hand on her shoulder,

"You did it, Patty," the witch said quietly. "You broke the chain. You set the daughter free."

After that they sat in awkward silence waiting as Willow and Kaitlyn went off to the kitchen where they argued in low voices and sorted through the spice rack, then came back with a bowl and a candle and led a small parade down into the basement where Buffy deposited Amsherket back into his vivarium and slid the top shut. Willow sat cross-legged on the floor and Kaitlyn set the bowl before her, set the candle in the bowl and lit it and stepped back as Willow began to chant.

Miss Patty felt the magic gathering, tasting it in the air, watching in fascination as white streaks appeared in Willow's red hair, as her eyes glowed a pale silver reminiscent of moonlight, and the candle flared up and melted rapidly and the vivarium began to grow opaque.

And Amsherket began to demonstrate a truly phenomenal gift for rapidly spewed obscenity that gradually faded into a muffled distance, then ceased to be heard at all.

The candle finished, the flame hit the spices at the bottom of the bowl and filled the basement with an aromatic cloud that dissipated to reveal Willow returned to her normal coloring, allowing Kaitlyn to help her to her feet. She turned and looked at Lorelai.

"I'm sorry," she said, "We'll talk to Giles, we'll do some research when we get home, but I don't think I can undo the damage that's been done. But this will put an end to it. When, in the fullness of time, your death comes, you'll take him with you, if that's any consolation. Let's go home, Kait. I'm tired."

The small parade went back up the stairs, outside to the waiting jeep. Miss Patty watched as Lorelai paused at the door and looked back at her still stunned parents, standing together in the hall, looking two parts angry and three parts lost.

"See you Friday," Lorelai said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Vanessa took a half-hearted hit and passed the pipe back, she leaned against the boathouse and watched the ripples slide across the dark water of the lake. The smoke had taken a little of the edge off the pain but she was still feeling down and dumb and sad. It had been kind of nice, letting Jules hold her, but Dustin had spoiled that. She looked up at the night sky and felt tiny and alone in a vast universe, and then she felt like a stupid teenage drama queen. She felt….. feelings, swirling pointless feelings.

She felt like jumping out of her skin when the voice spoke right beside her,

"Not that I care," the voice said, "but you don't gotta be a slayer to smell what you guys are doing from the clear across the lawn here. If you ain't careful those broads in the bar are gonna get a whiff and you may have to share."

Vanessa looked up, the voice belonged to one of the Faith's, all in black leather with long black hair she was pushing back from her face with her right hand as she settled down on the grass beside her.The woman reached into her coat and withdrew a long thin cigar, bit the tip off and spit it into the darkness.

"Pass the fire, wouldya, guys," she asked and added a raspy thanks as Jules handed over the lighter. She flicked the flame on and lit the cigar, taking a moment to get an even burn started. In the red glow Vanessa saw a movement and realized the woman had a small white puppy snuggling in the crook of her left arm.

"Thanks," she said again and passed the lighter back. "So," the woman said, "it's Vanessa, right?"

"Yeah," Vanessa said cautiously.

"I'm Faith," the woman said, holding out her hand, "I understand you've been looking for me?"

"Buh," Vanessa said, but managed to reach out and shake hands.

"And you are….?" Faith said.

"J-Jules…"

"Ah, the one who knows even badasses love puppies. Pleasetameetchya. And you are….?"

"Dustin."

"Ah, the one who wants to see me naked," Faith said and Vanessa snorted and suddenly her brain unfroze and she found she could speak again.

"You're really her," she said.

"Yeah."

"Cool." They sat silent for a moment. "So," Vanessa said, "What's your puppy's name? Can I hold him?"

**-30-**

**Next: Epilogue**


	13. Epilogue Witches Promise

**Epilogue - Witches Promise**

**A/N**: For Disclaimers, warnings see Chapt. 1

**A Schism in Stars Hollow**

**A Father Goose Digression**

**Epilogue - Witches Promise**

The demon awoke before dawn, he put his slippers on. He covered is face in the  
standard battlegear. He walked on down the hall. He fed the cat.

He checked his cloaking spells. Apparently they were still working. It had been a scary weekend, though. Slayers and witches and bikers, oh my. Oh the terror when he'd first seen them in the square, the one-eyed man and the slayer. After so many years of being safe and accepted by the town he'd grown complacent, forgotten that there were those creatures still stalking the earth that could and would kill him just for being what he was no matter how innocent his actual life…

But they had simply passed by and he'd sagged, uncertain whether to thank the spells or the Slayer's indifference. And then the witches came and he'd paniced again … But he understood now, they weren't after him, didn't even know he was there. He felt safe again, even brave enough to feel curious. Big doing's at the Inn this morning, the little birdies told him. Maybe he'd even go see. But he had time yet. Time for breakfast. He finished dressing and hurried across the square to the diner, happy to find his favorite chair still free.

"Good morning Luke," he said, "I'll have the usual."

"You don't have a usual, Kirk," Luke grumped and the demon smiled to himself. All was right with the world.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Lorelai," Sookie said, looking up from the ham she was garnishing, "what are you doing here on Sunday?" She paused. "It is Sunday isn't it? Because I've got this whole big breakfast buffet set up and if it's not Sunday…"

"It's Sunday, Sookie. I just… had kind of a weird night and I just want to… check on things."

"You know, that's funny," Sookie said, "I had kind of a weird night too. I mean I guess it was a dream … but …"

"Tell me."

"Well, I heard this crash and I woke up and there were two men in my bedroom."

"Oh yeah? Were they naked?"

"What? No…"

"Was one of them George Clooney?"

"No."

"Were they _both _George Clooney?"

"No. How could they both… where was I?"

"You had two men in your room. Does Jackson know about this? I bet he'd be interested…"

"What, no. Well, actually he was there too. He slept through the whole thing."

"So you had _three _men in your room. Now that's just greedy, Sook. Especially when some of us don't have any."

"Well, who's fault is that?"

"No, no, no, don't even go there. Go on, you had two strange men … well, three, cause you know I Iove Jackson, but he is a little odd sometimes. So strange not naked men…"

"Right. And they were arguing, One was saying something like_, 'Do the smoke, do the smoke,' _and the other said, _'I thought you were doing the smoke and I was doing the compulsion spell,' _and the other said, _'No, I'm doing the spell, you're doing the smoke," _and that went on for awhile and then one of them said _'Fine'_ and suddenly there was all this smoke and then I heard this voice telling me to get up and go to my desk and open my notebook and write down my secret recipe for the chocolate sauce I served on the profiteroles last night. And I did. I couldn't help myself. I was just…."

"Compelled?"

"Exactly. But here's the weird part…"

"_ Now_ we get to the weird part?"

"This morning when I woke up I went to my desk and my notebook was open and there was a recipe…."

"Your chocolate sauce?"

"No. Something called _Chicken Rygel _which seems to be chicken boned and skinned and stewed with snails and okra in a sweet cream sauce."

"Eww."

"Yeah. Weird, huh? I mean, that's not a fair trade at _all." _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So," Vanessa's mother said, "what did you get up to last night?"

Normally she wouldn't have dreamed of answering that with anything more than the usual, "Nothin'," but today she just had to tell someone and the only other people she knew to tell, they'd been there. The words bubbled out.

"I was hanging with Dustin an Jules an Faith the real one came and hung out with us for a while and told us about how one time she and Xan killed these zombies with a dull razor and some hard-boiled eggs and then she let me hold her puppy while she flashed Dustin who's probably still walking around with his mouth hanging open, and she gave me this stake," she said, holding out her new most totally prized possession ever.

"Umhum," her mother said, "that's nice, dear. Is your father up yet? We don't want to be late, I think it's a buffet breakfast and the eggs will get cold."

Vanessa sighed, then smiled. She'd left out the part where, zombie stories notwithstanding, she'd actually done most of the talking, pouring out her life story as she never had to anyone before. She could still feel the Slayer's hand on her shoulder, hear the smoky voice,

"Hang in there kiddo, everybody's life sucks at fourteen. Give your folks a break, yeah? They're doin' the best they can."

She went to wake her father up, jumping on the bed like she used to when she was a little kid and waving her stake in front of his blearily blinking eyes.

"Look what Faith gave me," she said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jaime Gutierrez sat in the back of the crowded meeting room and watched the script play out.

Joe B. stood on the stage and called for attention, announcing that it was true, the days events had been cancelled.

"We have had…" he paused dramatically, looking around the room, "imposters among us. People who do not and never will go around pretending to be slayers and watchers. Ladies and gentleman it is my very great honor to present to you Faith the Vampire Slayer….."

Jaime grinned as the woman he now knew was Faith stepped on the stage carrying a heavy staff. He could feel the uncertainty in the room, the low buzz as people wondered it if could be real or more likely Joe B. playing some game to make a point…

"And," Joe continued as a second leatherclad woman stepped forward with her own staff, "a young lady, known, I am told, to terrified demons everywhere as _The Mechanic, _Zoey the Vampire Slayer." Joe B. paused again, did the dramatic look around. "I sense some doubt," he said, "Ladies, please remove it."

And he stepped to the side but stayed on stage, still visible, Jaime could see the big man willing himself not to flinch as the two slayers began to spar, gently at first, then gradually escalating until their movements seemed to blur, the sound of the clashing staffs cracked like machine gun fire. Even in the back of the room Jaime could feel the sheer force of the blows, the power on display. They finished with a flurry of stunning leaps and tumbles and then standing side by side they held out the staffs and broke them like they were kindling, took a brief bow, turned and walked away, first to stunned silence, then to standing applause which Joe B. stepped forward to bask in.

He waited until the shouting and whistles died down, waited a little longer, milking the moment for all it was worth,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the man himself, Mr. Xander Harris."

He limped out, allowed Joe to shake his hand, waved for the applause to die down.

"Thank you," he said, "but you should probably hear what I have to say before you clap too loudly."

He let them down easy, praising their courage, their intentions as demonstrated by the charities … before telling them they had to stop. He was kind, even apologetic.

But firm. He grinned and invited anyone who didn't want to accept the cease and desist decree to take it up with Faith and Zoey. And in the end they applauded, because what else could they do.

Joe B. announced that Xander and Faith would be in the dining room for an hour to answer questions, sign autograph's if anyone wanted, please form an orderly line…

And that was it. Jaime felt a bit of not unexpected disappointment. It would have been so much more satisfying to see Joe and Sarah B. brought down a notch or two. But he understood, as he had the night before as he watched Giles make the deal, the watcher's distaste only thinly concealed, but irrelevant. Joe B. got to save face and maintain control to the Society's funds, in return Giles got a copy of the XLH'es extensive demon database, and Joe. B.'s cooperation in discouraging any resistance. It was a good, practical arrangement.

It just left a little bit of a bad taste in the mouth. Ah well, he thought, he'd tasted much worse in his time. He did have to smile, though, as he was leaving the hall and he saw the pile of discarded eyepatches in the trash can by the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miss Patty bit her tongue. She was sitting in the corner of Luke's diner with Babette and they'd come in, the witches and their entourage Patty remembered from that first night. They were dressed differently now. Normally, Patty supposed. No eyepatches, no black leather, the older man Babette was drooling over dressed in a tweed suit, the two witches in flowing cotton dresses. The other two girls in jeans and bright blouses, the two men in slacks and shirts that spoke much more of Italy than Hawaii.

They'd smiled and waved at her as they pushed a couple tables together so they could sit in a group and Babette was clearly bursting with curiosity. And Patty was bursting to tell her. There had been a few times over the years when she'd come thisclose to telling her about the magic but always drawn back not so much because she didn't think Babette would believe her, but that she would… and then … it was just simpler to stay quiet. But hard sometimes.

She watched Luke pause and count heads as the man in tweed ordered ten chicken-fried steaks….

"There's three more coming," tweed man said, and Luke had nodded with that pained expression that paying customers always gave him. And then suddenly those clouds were gone, Patty saw the his face light up, even the beginnings of a smile and she glanced at the door and saw that of course it was Rory and Lorelai coming in, taking the last remaining free table as Luke hurried over with two coffee cups in one hand and the pot in the other.

"What's the matter with Lorelai?" Babette whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"She looks… sad," Babette answered. "Like she wants to cry on his shoulder instead of like she wants to jump his bones, like she usually does."

"Oh," Patty answered. "I don't know." She bit her tongue again.

There was the sound of motorcycles in the square again, then the door swung open and now there was a man with an eyepatch and two women in black leather, one of them carrying a puppy in the crook of her arm. Patty saw Luke begin to object, then think better of it. The newcomers were greeted with much laughter and teasing, with the blonde snake-handler, _Buffy,_ Patty remembered, begging Eyepatch for an autograph and Eyepatch telling her to call his agent and so on, the banter continuing even as the food came and vanished to be replaced by calls for more, to Luke's amazed irritation.

Eventually the little witch, Kaitlyn, pushed her plate away, kissed the redhead on the cheek and came over to Patty's table.

"May I?" she asked"

"Of course," Patty answered adding as she pulled up a chair. "This is my friend Babette, Babette, Kaitlyn."

"I just wanted you to know we spoke with Giles and … well, I'm sorry but he couldn't think of any way to free her from the demon but we will ask the Devon coven…." Her voice faded as finally she caught on to Patty's urgent signal… "Oh, goddess, she doesn't know?"

Patty shook her head. Kaitlyn turned to look at Babette.

"She doesn't know?" she asked. Babette shook her head.

"Oops," Kaitlyn said, turning bright red. After a moment Babette laughed and took pity on her, reached out and patted her hand.

"It's okay hon, it's kind of silly really. I knew about Patty of course, she just didn't know about me."

"Know what?" Patty asked, "What about you? You're a witch too?"

"Oh no, hon. I'm a gnome."

Patty stared. "A…. gnome? But you're…."

"We don't all live under toadstools. All shapes and sizes, we gnomes. Okay, I'm on the tall side as gnomes go….."

"And in your yard…."

"Mostly from my dad's side of the family. Poor relations, if you will, but I don't mind. They're fun, but kind of sad now that Rory's moving away. They love to bliss out on her aura."

"Wait a minute, you mean all those stories little Rory used to tell about tea parties with the gnomes …"

"True."

"Oh…. Oh," Miss Patty said. "I hope you gave that Pierpont a good hiding."

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Umm, well. Didn't Rory ever tell you … I mean, I thought she was just being precocious … well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. You just tell him he better stay out of my sight for awhile. …Nevermind. So, gnomes. And Morey?"

"What about him?"

"What is he?"

"What do you mean? He's just as human as you are, Patricia LaCosta!"

"Really? … Sorry."

"Umm, well," Kaitlyn said. "I'll leave you two to … catch up in a moment. I just wanted to give you these …. " she handed Patty two three by five cards with rhymes written in elegant calligraphy. "They're spells," she explained.

"But I can't … all my magic went into the blessing…"

"Of course. But these don't require your personal magic…. these are spells anyone can do. The world is full of magic, Miss Patty. That's what makes Willow so powerful, you know, it's not so much what's inside her but her ability to draw power from the world, from books, from the earth, and channel it. That's all these spells do, release a little magic. This one is for Lorelai."

"What's it do?"

"Nothing, really, I'm afraid. A light show, a little bit of euphoria. But it might give her hope. I can tell she's … sad. Maybe even near despairing. If we can't come up with an actual solution, then, when you think the time is right go to her, tell you've found a spell to help her. Don't tell her solves anything, just that it gives her chance if she works at it. She's damaged, Miss Patty, and unless we can find a way to stop it she's going to slowly but steadily get worse. She'll get colder, more brittle, less kind, less capable of genuine laughter. But she's not dead. She might as well live in hope."

"Is there hope?" Babette asked. "The poor girl's a bit self-centered, but who isn't really? She doesn't deserve this."

"There's always hope. After all, in the end even Faust escaped his demon and his was a big one. The Power of Love and all that." Kaitlyn turned in her seat, looked at Lorelai, then over at Luke. "Maybe," she said softly. "Last minute miracle. Stranger things have happened." She stood and held out her hand, "Babette, it was nice to meet you," she said and shook, and did the same with Patty. "Take care, sister. Blessings be."

"Oh, Kaitlyn, wait," Miss Patty, holding up the second card, "what's this spell for?"

"Oh," Kaitlyn grinned, "that one does the dishes."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finally, after they finished off a second peach pie and he delivered the to-go order of six cheeseburgers to the woman with the puppy …

… why he had let that pass he didn't know, it was just that every time he started to formulate a sentence about dogs and restaurants … he just couldn't.

In fact, without being asked he'd gone and cut up a little bit of meatloaf and brought it out in a dish and got the most dazzling smile from the woman, which was nice but wasn't why he'd done it. He'd stood there a moment, wondering, trying to retrace his thought process when the redhead had winked at him and it didn't bother him anymore, except that now that they were gone it was starting to nag a little. Mostly because he was afraid that Kirk would use his tolerance as an excuse to bring his killer cat to the counter in the morning expecting a saucer of milk.

… Now they were gone, finally, and even though half the tables in the diner were still occupied it seemed empty now, a bit after-the-storm. Strange group, he thought. He shrugged and began to bus the table.

Slowly the afternoon waned, the customers lingering over pie or a last cup of coffee sighed and took themselves back out into the world. Miss Patty and Babette had paused on the way out to give him Significant Looks about what he had no clue. But then they did that at least once a week so he didn't pay it much attention.

Eventually and rather oddly, as usually they had long ago rushed off by this time of day, only Rory and Lorelai were left. Rory had the Harvard and Yale catalogs open side by side on the table and seemed to be parsing them sentence by sentence while Lorelai sat back watching her with a faraway look on her face. He let them be, quietly flipped the sign on the door to _closed, _kicked Caesar out the back door early and began doing the closing clean-up by himself.

The sky was just beginning to darken when Jess came in, quickly tucking his Wal-mart smock into his backpack when he saw Rory. He exchanged hellos with the girls and went upstairs. After a decent interval Rory followed.

Luke came around the counter and filled Lorelai's coffee cup.

"Missing her already, huh?" he said.

"Hmmm?"

Luke nodded toward the college materials still spread on the table. "Seems like just yesterday she was getting ready to off to Chilton. Now, Harvard."

"Or Yale."

"Yeah. She could come home weekends then, huh. Still a big step. Got you a little shook?"

"What. Why, no. Why do you say that?"

"I've been giving you decaf all afternoon and you didn't say a word."

"No, you didn't."

He smiled. "No, I didn't. I figured for once maybe you needed it. She's going to be fine, you know. Harvard, Yale, whatever. She'll take them by storm."

"Yes. Yes, she'll be fine. It's just…. I'm not sure if I will." She looked up at him then with such raw pain in her eyes he could almost feel its physical presence. He stood, as he always did at times like this, mumbling and searching desperately for something to do to make it better…

"Pie," he said, "you want some pie with that? I think the hoover family left me one …. " he hurried over to the counter, leaned over to grab a fork and the remaining pie. "Yes," he said, "it's cherry, you like cherry, right?"

"Yes," she said softly, then stood as he came back. "Thank you but… I'm just having a little early empty nest syndrome. I'm fine, didn't mean to go all weepy on you."

"That's okay."

"I should go. I don't want Rory to think I'm monitoring her make-out time."

"Her what? … Oh. Yeah. You want me to go get …."

"No. No, let them be. For awhile. Well…. See you tomorrow."

"Here," he thrust the pie out awkwardly. " Take this with you, you can eat it later. Take it. You can bring the pan back whenever. Please."

And then she was gone and he sat alone at the counter, knowing he'd done the wrong thing again but not quite sure what and why.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She stood in the square holding the pie and fought the urge to run back to him. To tell him everything. He wouldn't believe her, not at first. But he wouldn't care. He'd try to help. But there was no help, forces beyond the both of them had set the path….

And he didn't deserve that, didn't need snakedemons and women with mortgaged souls in his life. He needed a sane woman. A Nicole… well, maybe not Nicole, but someone…. Better than her.

And she needed… someone who understood that there was a time for a pie and a time … for taking someone in your arms and holding them tight.

She started walking, paused again, looked around at the town, the evening shadows starting to lengthen. She loved this town, she did, quirks and all, especially the quirks. And yet.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't. It was a fairy tale town and fairy tales were lovely for little girls but little girls grew up. Rory grew up. Maybe Harvard wasn't the only way … but she'd had to get her out. She wasn't wrong about that, she insisted to herself. She wasn't.

Speaking of quirks, she heard him first, then saw him, coming around the corner, dancing on one leg as if possessed, playing with more antic energy than usual, the little portable amp struggling to keep up as the town troubadour attacked his guitar and sang…

_Keep looking, keep looking for somewhere to be,  
Well, you're wasting your time, they're not stupid like he_

She turned and walked away, almost ran, knowing somehow she didn't want to hear, but the words followed her in the still of the small town Sunday night;

_Meanwhile leaves are still falling, you're too blind to see.  
You won't find it easy now, it's only fair.  
He was willing to give to you, you didn't care.  
You're waiting for more but you've had your share.  
The witches promise is turning so don't wait up for him,  
He's going to be late. _

**The End.**

_Witches Promise _belongs, of course, to the incomparable Ian Anderson and _Jethro Tull_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Warning: General **SPOILERS **below for GG as of **3/22/07**

**A:N** This was originally intended to be, for the most part, a brief lament for the long decline and very deep fall of the once clever and brilliant Gilmore Girls and the once utterly charming Lorelai who, as the unwatchable seventh season whimpers to a close, is not even a pale shadow of herself but a pale shadow of someone else.

Hence the conceit of the Faustian deal and the visions of her future in the crystal ball. And me writing myself into a corner where I'm afraid there just wasn't a happy ending for Lorelai that felt remotely true. Thus, it ends as it ends.

I also apologize for the lack of Paris. I tried. She just didn't fit.

Lorelai may be lost to us, well, to me at least, but Stars Hollow is made of sterner stuff and it abides.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Appendix

SCHISM IN STARS HOLLOW x with Gilmore Girls

OC's

Zoey --- Mechanically minded slayer, in charge of Cleveland bicycle/motor pool.

Timothy ---- Andrew Well's boyfriend

Kaitlyn ----- Willow's girlfriend, lesser witch

Vanessa – 14 year-old daughter of XLH members, Faith fan

Jules V. – 13, son of prominent XLH member

Dustin -- 14, son of XLH members, considered a perv by Vanessa

XLH members :

Walt Peckham --- Original leader of the XLH, deceased

Joseph B. ---- 2nd and current leader

Sarah B. ---- Mrs Joe B. and fist successful "Faith"

Harvey -- original member, geek, historian, naïve

Robert. Y. – Hardline mercenary con man

Davis. O. --- XLH as way of life proponent

Ed. G. – Original member, self-proclaimed Xander Expert

F. Erin. --- leader of equal rights for Faith's movement.

XLH Jaime --- Semi-independent, vampires killed his sister.

XLH Al Jenkins – Xander  
F. Charity Wigglesworth -- Faith  
XLH Reginald Smythe-Smythe -- Giles  
XLH Bill Rose -- Willow  
F. Alba Estate -- Dawn  
F. Anne Estate --- Buffy  
XLH Anthony Bells -- Andrew

Amsherket – Gilmore family demon taking the form of an egyptian cobra or _asp_ (geddit?)

-30-


End file.
